To Steal A Heart
by jackala345
Summary: The only thing James Potter meant to do was steal a wallet. He didn't mean to find the picture, he didn't mean to decide to return the wallet, and he really didn't mean to meet Lily Evans in person. And he most certainly did not mean to fall in love with her. But fate works in mysterious ways, and when the heart has been stolen, it is very, very hard to take it back.
1. Prologue

**Hey everyone!**

**So I have this awful habit of starting stories and then ending up deleting them because I didn't like them or the reception they got, so I decided to FINALLY begin a story that I will (hopefully) continue writing.**

**It's a Lily/James AU fic, and it's set in modern times, which basically means that there's no Hogwarts, magic, etc... However, all the Marauders will play roles (however small) and, of course, Lily and James will star.**

**Here's the summary:**

**To steal a heart, you must first steal a wallet. Then, you must find the picture inside the wallet and you must study that picture until you find yourself anxious to meet that smiling redhead in person, and then you must find her. And finally, you must fall in love with her. Because to steal a heart, you must have yours stolen in return.**

**I always crave readers and reviewers, so any of you who feel like dropping by and writing a short comment, PLEASE do so! Honestly, they're the only thing that keeps me going. **

**I'm a pretty slow updater, because I have school plus my computer sucks and doesn't let me on this site half the time (the other half for which I'm grateful). I'll probably be dropping in once a month, maybe less, except for with chapter one, because I have most of it written already (yay!) Depending on the feedback I get for this story, I'll be varying my updates. Hopefully this means I'll be EXTREMELY motivated to keep writing!**

**This is a long A/N for me, so I think I'll shut up now.**

**Please, please read, and tell me what you think!**

* * *

To Steal a Heart: Prologue

Once upon a time, for that is how most fairy tales start, there was a twenty-one year old student who was attending Stanford University. She shared a dorm with her best friend Marlene, her major was Graphic Design, and her red hair and green eyes were as startling as her fate.

All in all, she was pretty normal.

Once upon a time, there was a twenty-two year old youth who had just graduated from Berkeley. He scraped by in a small apartment with his best friends Sirius, Remus, and Peter, he was brilliant but preferred to play soccer, and his tousled black hair and mischievous hazel eyes sparked sighs in many, many women.

He was just like any other boy of his age.

Once upon a time, the redheaded girl, whose name was Lily Evans, woke up early, went for a run, and returned home to find that there were no more strawberries in the house to make her daily smoothie. So she took a trip to the grocery store after a quick shower, and made her way onto a crowded bus after her errands at around twelve-thirty in the afternoon.

At approximately the same time, the handsome boy, who was called James Potter, woke up late, decided to go to the drugstore, "accidentally" nicked a box of overpriced caramels, and got caught. He was questioned by the police, released because he had no prior record (that they knew of), and walked up the steps to the city bus at around half-past noon.

Once upon a time, Lily Evans tripped and almost fell as the bus began to move, except an unknown man caught her, righted her, and then immediately turned away, and she did not pursue the issue.

When James Potter caught a mystery girl as she almost tumbled, he slipped his hand into her half-open purse, and tucked her wallet into his pocket before turning away to avoid suspicion.

Once upon a time, Lily found she was missing her wallet, and James found a picture.

Once upon a time, Lily vowed to find whoever had stolen her wallet, just as a little while later, James decided to give it back.

Once upon a time, a girl named Lily Evans and a boy named James Potter would meet, because that is how all fairy tales start, and once upon a time, they would fall in love.

Because that is how all fairy tales are.

* * *

**Yes, it's short. But it's a prologue, right? :) Anyways, I'm writing chapter one now, so I think I'll leave you to your devices. Please leave a review if you feel so inclined!**

**Love,  
jackala345**


	2. A Look at Lily and James

**Hey everyone!**

**Thanks so much for your reception to the prologue... it persuaded me to write a lot faster :) **

**Please tell me what you think about this chapter!**

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Chapter One: A Look at Lily and James

Normally, Lily Evans' alarm was able to successfully rouse her at seven for her daily run, but she had hit the snooze bar a couple times too many this morning and consequently found herself hurrying to pull on a jog bra and sport shorts at seven-seventeen.

Cursing herself under her breath for her (unsatisfied) comfort cravings, she scraped her hair up into a ponytail and left her bedroom, entering the tiny living room. She scooped up her iPod, which was lying on the coffee table, and selected the RUN playlist, pushing the headphone buds into her ears before slipping the iPod into the little back pocket of her shorts.

She hoped the beeping of her alarm hadn't woken her roommate, Marlene Weber. The last thing she needed was an angry Marlene when she was already running late.

Grabbing a drink from the water bottle that always resided in the mini fridge, she slid her green sweat-absorbing band onto her head. She managed to slip on a pair of socks while sticking the water back into the fridge and then went on a quick sneaker-hunt, finally locating them under the couch. Her cat, Mila, slept on one of the cushions, and Lily ran a quick hand over Mila's back, earning a half-hearted meow, before tying up her shoes, making sure her key was strung tight to the lace, and exiting the dorm.

She took the road that would lead her to Palm Drive and breathed in deeply, letting herself relax in the calming California air. Her music pumped through her brain and her legs followed the rhythm and path that she had taken for three, almost four years, the time that she had attended Stanford. It was a gorgeous autumn morning, and the campus rivaled nature in a battle for the most beautiful this day in October. The breeze wavered across the red roofs that made the college so distinct and unique, the sun was idling behind the building tops, and the trees hummed with birdsong. Already, there were a few people up and about – Lily waved to a tall, gangly boy on a bike and a small Asian girl who was reading on a bench. They returned the gesture as she continued on.

Palm Drive was stunning. Tall, graceful palm trees lined a stick-straight road which stretched a mile to the horizon, and the imposing entrance to her university always left a mark on those who saw it. Lily increased her pace, letting her breaths become deeper and fuller, wiping at the sweat already forming on her nose. The three or four cars that idled their way down the drive did not drive fast and did not bother her, and she spared them nothing but a glance as she passed.

This was the thing Lily loved about running: the way it completely cleared the mind, totally emptied the body of any thought, simply because it was very hard to focus on anything but breathing and tiredness and not walking. She loved how she could completely forget everything except the muscles in her legs working to carry her down the line of palm tree soldiers, and the pounding of blood in her head as she ran, and the gentle strains of music that sometimes punctuated the exertion. She loved how all her problems faded and became nothing but background noise, and how still and quiet it was when most people still slept, and how the breeze caught in her lungs, cold and refreshing. She loved the exhilaration that the exercise gave her.

Her sneakers were a constant, blue-streaked beat as she made her way down Palm Drive. When she reached the end of the road, she kept running, and the town of Palo Alto opened up before her, just waking up while she, already grinning and adrenaline-filled, reveled in the magic of the morning.

* * *

Functioning completely off of her running high, Lily returned to her dorm, pausing her music and yanking the headphones out of her ears, letting them rest on her shoulders. She was breathing hard, covered in a sheen of sweat, chest heaving. Nothing like a nice five-mile run to loosen up your day.

Despite her tiredness, she was smiling, her green eyes bright and her pale face flushed, surrounded by damp strands of hair that had escaped her headband.

She was also in desperate need of her daily smoothie.

Lily's smoothie was the one thing (besides coffee) that kept her completely awake throughout the day. After her run, she would always dance around the small kitchen, wielding spoon and fruit and blender, humming, the loud sound of pureeing making Marlene yell. If you asked Lily, it was a musical blend of strawberries and bananas, perfectly blended with a hint of vanilla yogurt and kiwi, if they happened to have kiwi. If you asked Marlene, it was a sugar-less pile of mush.

Speaking of which…

"Marlene! Are you up?" Lily called, stopping her search through the cabinets for the blender to tilt her head and listen for a reply.

She heard nothing but a muffled grunt.

"Marlene…" She sighed, dumped the blender on the counter and plugged the cord into the outlet, backtracked, and made her way around the pile of laundry piled around the couch that consisted of their sitting room before knocking on the closed door that lay just beyond it.

"Go away, Lily…"

"Marlene, you've got to get up. It's five past eight, and you have your Literature-whatever class at eight-thirty." Lily pressed her ear against the door for an answer, but nothing was audible. Her roommate had probably fallen asleep again. The redhead pounded on the door a second time.

"Marlene, get up! Guess what you have in twenty-five minutes?"

A groan. "Unless it's an appointment with the dean who can _move me out of this goddamn dorm_ and into one that has a _sane_ roommate who actually _sleeps_ until past eight, _I don't care!_"

Lily rolled her eyes. "You got that wrong, hon. Actually, it's your Literature class. Which, if I remember correctly, is your major. And it's in twenty-_three_ minutes now, thanks to your dragging. So get up, you lazy little…"

"Shit, that's today?" Blankets being thrown back, judging from the rustling.

Lily laughed under her breath and returned to the kitchen. She clattered the lid of the blender onto the counter, purposely loudly, evoking a "Stop that noise…" from Marlene. The fridge opened with a nice smack, and Lily leaned against it for a moment, stretching her calves. Then she rummaged through the leftovers and sodas that frequently occupied the shelves, worming out a cup of yogurt, a kiwi (yay!), a banana, and –

"Marlene, are we out of strawberries?"

There was the sound of a drawer opening, and the muffled rummaging through clothes. It was a second before Marlene replied, "Um…"

Lily groaned, her running high already fading, and closed the fridge with a thud. The cold that had been so pleasing to her face vanished. "Fine, I'll head to the store after I shower. Is there anything you need?"

"Yeah, can you get some more cereal? We're nearly out."

"The usual, right?"

"Yup." Marlene's voice faded, and Lily could hear the sound of a door closing and the shower starting up. At the same time, the walls began to whistle in a teakettle-like manner as the water rushed through the pipes concealed within them. Taking this as a dismissal, she slumped out of the kitchen, dropping her iPod onto the coffee table before walking towards the other door that opened out from the living room.

She really wanted her smoothie.

Her bedroom was sparsely furnished, with a low bed covered in blue sheets, yellow curtains, and furniture made of polished wood. She pawed through her dresser for a moment before pulling out a pair of jeans, a white v-neck, and some underwear. A minute later, the shower in the bathroom just beside the tall bendy lamp in the corner was running, the water only lukewarm because of her roommate hogging all the hot water.

Even though Marlene was rushed for time, Lily did not have classes until the afternoon, so she took her time, rubbing lotion into her face, taking the luxury of blow-drying her hair instead of scrubbing it with a towel. She put on her normal makeup, simple eyeliner and lip gloss, throwing on a light green cardigan before picking up her purse from where it was slung over the back of her desk chair.

In the kitchen, her roommate was munching from a bag of potato chips, drinking a cup of coffee, and hurriedly reading over an essay, muttering under her breath. Marlene was slim with chestnut hair and stood five-eight, an easy two inches over Lily's frame. When Lily entered, the brunette looked up and smiled. "Hey. Thanks for waking me up." She brushed a brown lock out of her face.

"Well, _that_ was long overdue," grinned the redhead in return, sneaking a chip from her friend's bag, then opening a cupboard. She pulled out her favorite thermos and poured herself a healthy amount from the coffeemaker.

"Lily!"

The girl in question flashed a smile, taking a sip from her coffee. "For what, the chip, the coffee, or the comment?"

"All three."

Lily laughed, knowing of Marlene's coffee addiction. Leaning against the counter, she drank her coffee, letting the caffeine rush through her system, and watched the brown-haired girl talk to herself, writing something into the margins beside a particularly long paragraph. After a few minutes of this, Lily pulled a Post-It from her purse and stole her roommate's pencil, ignoring the "Hey!" and the repeated attempts to retrieve the writing utensil.

"What do we need, besides cereal and strawberries?" The graphite tip hovered over the pink paper.

"Um…" Marlene stopped trying to get her pencil back and put her paper down, thoughtfully twisting a strand of hair around her finger. "More chips? Maybe some butter. And salt, and some apples, and honey, and if they have it, some of that really good chocolate cake. Oh, and we need laundry detergent. Do you think the supermarket has laundry detergent?"

Lily scribbled it all down. "I'll check. Anything else?"

"Nope." Marlene returned to her essay.

"Alright, I'm out, then." The redhead folded the list into her pocket and made sure she had her wallet in her purse. It was there, nestled between her checkbook and a few tampons. "See you. Have fun in Lit class."

The door was just about to close behind her when Marlene yelled, "Hey! I need my pencil back, you little…"

Lily's green eyes sparkled as she poked her head around the doorframe. "Don't finish that sentence, sweetie, the other residents of this fantastic dorm might hear you. Here's your pencil." She tossed it, and, not waiting to see if it was caught, made her way down the stairs, laughing.

* * *

"That'll be $52.81, ma'am."

Lily hitched the two grocery bags further up her arm and unzipped her purse, digging around for her wallet. Managing to free her credit card from its leather grasp, she handed it to the clerk while wedging the wallet back into her handbag. It only fit halfway before hitting something and stopping short. Sliding the bags into the crook of her elbow, she raised her arm to try and push it in further.

"Thank you, and have a nice day." The clerk's voice was rather annoying, Lily thought. She stopped her attempts to take her credit card back from the lady. Taking the card between her teeth, she pulled at her wallet, this time to get it out. It was stuck on something, the zipper maybe? She let out an internal groan of exasperation. The stupid grocery bags kept inching their way down her arms, and –

"Damn!" The exclamation left her lips before she could react, just as a handle split and a couple boxes of cereal, a bag of apples, and, of course, a carton of strawberries tumbled to the linoleum, bumping once, twice, and splaying themselves across the floor. Blushing from her outburst, which the clerk was frowning disapprovingly at, Lily stuffed her card in her front pocket and knelt to gather up her fallen purchases. She scooped up everything as quickly as possible.

"Need a hand?"

Lily shook her head. _You could try to sound a little more enthusiastic, though_. "No, I'm fine. Can I have another bag, though?"

"Certainly." The fake smile plastered across that woman's face was so forced it looked like her cheeks were going to split in two (along with her apron, which was several sizes too small for her rather large body). Lily quickly dumped all the food in her arms into the bag and took the handles, this time cradling the heavy bundle to her chest like she would a baby, and pulled her purse up further on her shoulder. With a quick "Thank you", she hurried out of the store, her face flushed.

* * *

James was not in a good mood.

His stupid alarm had gone off three minutes too early, and now he was feeling sleep-deprived. Those three minutes made a big difference in his book. He smashed his pillow against his face, hoping it would help him fall back asleep, but it couldn't block out the sounds of Remus and Peter in the kitchen, no doubt trying to make breakfast. There was a _reason_ that he set his alarm to eight twenty-six. Because by then, the other early risers in the apartment (namely, _not_ him and Sirius) had given up their attempts to cook and had just stuffed a pile of slice-and-bake biscuits into the oven, hoping for the best. Sometimes forgetting that they needed to use a tray. And it was usually the burning smell that woke him up, anyway.

He groaned, resigning himself to the fact that he would have to live with one hundred eighty less seconds of sleep today, reached blearily for his glasses, and pushed them up his nose, running a hand through his tangled hair and rolling out of bed. Only half-conscious, he scratched the back of his neck, observing his surroundings without really registering them.

With the tired grace of a drunken hyena, he began to make his way towards the bathroom door, which was the only thing he recognized at the moment. A shower would wake him up. His brain was slowly running through the pleasant thoughts – hot water, loud enough to block out the sounds of Remus and Peter, who were now arguing about whether to bake or broil, and the smell of shampoo, which would hopefully stem the scent of burning something-or-other coming from outside the bedroom.

But halfway across the room, he stepped on a mound of T-shirts, and since his usually fine-tuned reflexes weren't in order yet (it was still eight twenty-five), he tripped, falling on top of a soft heap wrapped in a red sleeping bag that suddenly started thrashing about and cursing loudly.

"Damn it, James, you little asshole, what are you trying to do, break my fucking leg? Ow, that hurts like shit –"

"Sorry, Sirius." James pushed himself off the ground and rubbed his eye blearily. "Stupid alarm woke me up early."

"I _know_, you idiot, I heard it, that's why I'm awake, besides the fact that a big fat son of a bitch just _fell_ on me. When it's my turn for the bed next week, I swear, I'm going to fall on top of you _every day_, see how you like it, you…"

"Looks like you two are getting a little cozy here," commented another voice dryly. It was Remus, having just pushed the door open. He held a cup of coffee, and was already dressed in jeans and a pullover, his dirty blonde hair brushed and neat. "Get off the floor, you lazy lump," he added as an afterthought to the figure in the sleeping bag, which had curled up in a ball and was, unsuccessfully, attempting to sleep once more. "You have to get to work by nine."

A head of messy hair popped out of the unzipped top and Sirius proclaimed loudly, "I can get ready in ten minutes, that's my secret skill, Lupin, you prat."

"I don't care, Black," replied the latter good-naturedly. "And there's coffee and biscuits, if you want them, and if Peter hasn't eaten them all yet. Hey, Peter! How many biscuits are left?"

"Six," replied a voice from the kitchen.

"Six biscuits," Remus confirmed, which was enough to get the youth on the floor rolling over and sitting up.

"Peter, you fatass, don't eat all the food! I need at least three to start a good day…" Sirius stretched and yawned. He was tall, around six feet, and supremely handsome, with black hair that fell into gray eyes set in a tanned face. "Where's James?" he asked. "He was just on top of me."

Remus snickered at the unintended innuendo.

"Here." James poked his head out from the bathroom, where he had just been about to jump in the (much-craved) shower. As a result, he wore no clothes, except his gold-rimmed glasses, which he had just been about to take off.

"Spare me the sight," said Remus, as Sirius, completely unfazed by his best friend's nakedness, pushed past said friend and turned on the sink to wash his face.

"Don't steal all the hot water," complained James as he got the water running in the shower and climbed in. Sirius flicked a few droplets at him, and James yelped, closing the curtain. "You got me _wet_, Sirius!"

"You're about to take a _shower_, James…"

"Make your bed, James, and fold up that stupid sleeping bag, Sirius." Remus took a sip of his coffee and leaned against the doorframe.

"Yes, _Mom_," said Sirius between splashes. He hit the shower curtain with his left hand. "Hey, Potter! Mother Lupin here says to make your bed!"

"Tell Remus to…" James continued on to spout an elaborate string of expletives.

"Don't forget, wittle baby James," teased Remus, before leaving the room, door hanging half-open behind him. "Is the paper here, Peter?"

"Five biscuits left, you slowpokes!" called Peter to the two black-haired boys in the bathroom, before handing the paper to his friend and munching into another.

* * *

It was nine fifteen.

Sirius had left for Abercrombie, where he worked. The boys often teased him about it, but the job paid surprisingly well and his good looks, easy charm, and encouraging way with unsure women had gotten him many free articles of clothing, which were the main suppliers of the boys' closets.

Remus was a waiter at that fantastic Chinese place down the street, Fu La Mum. The dim sum that he sometimes brought home was _excellent_, and his natural helping, kind nature made sure that the owners didn't fire him.

Even Peter worked hard, scraping decent wages at the bookstore where he stocked deliveries and ordered new book supply whenever it was needed.

However, James didn't exactly have a job, which was the reason why he was strolling casually down the Palo Alto streets, hands in his pockets, headphones in his ears. The slight pang of guilt he always felt when the others left for their work and he was left dangling had faded, and he wasn't really sure where he was going.

It was a gorgeous day, the sun shining and the sky blue as anything, and the clouds puffy like mattress fluff.

The good weather and the hot shower had certainly woken him up.

He hummed along to his music. He was listening to classical, although most wouldn't suspect it, and Chopin's waltz in A minor began to play.

James didn't really have a plan for this day. Maybe he'd drop by the bookstore and visit Peter. Maybe he'd get some of that delicious salt-and-pepper shrimp from Fu La Mum. Maybe he'd just hang around, buy some ice cream, and take a stroll down the streets, visit the Stanford campus. He hadn't attended Stanford – actually, he had graduated from Berkeley in May. That was where he'd met Sirius, Remus, and Peter. He had majored in computer science, along with Sirius. Remus was an English major. Peter had come from the arts section.

His stomach grumbled. The one biscuit he'd eaten – Peter and Sirius, the greedy pigs, had finished off seven before he had gotten out of his room, leaving two for Remus and one pitiful pile of half-burned bread for himself – hadn't nearly been enough to sate him. The music clicked over to a nocturne. James found himself walking in the direction of a general store that he and the other boys often frequented for its relatively cheap prices and its plentiful amounts of junk food. The door slid open automatically and he stepped into the dingy, brightly lit room, fingering the ten-dollar bill in his pocket. He strolled down the aisles, picking out a jumbo bag of barbecue chips and a pouch of sour gummy worms. He reached into the cold refrigerators lining the far wall and plucked a Coke from its plastic rack.

The shelves to his right were stocked with all types of candy and chocolate, and James stuffed the soda into his pocket, where it stuck out awkwardly. Then he sidled over to where the Snickers bars and the Milky Ways lived, his hazel eyes roving them hungrily.

His hand hovered over a box of Junior Mints, then switched to a Kit-Kat bar. Back and forth.

That's when the crinkly pack of caramels caught his eye.

They were the types he really liked, with the creamy middles and the sticky outsides, individually wrapped in their package. James' stomach rumbled again and he stuck the bag of chips under his arm. The price – two ninety-nine. Holy crap. That was a lot for some caramels. He mentally calculated: the chips were three-fifty, the gummy worms were two-twenty. The Coke was one-seventy. That was seven-forty all together, plus two ninety-nine… nope. It would be more than ten dollars, which was all he had, excluding tax.

But he really wanted those caramels.

James glanced around with the furtive look of one who has decided to do something that is not exactly legal.

He was practiced, perhaps more so than someone of his age should be, in the art of not-exactly-legal.

His hand shot out, pulled the pack off its shelf, and stuffed it into the waistband of his jeans. He adjusted his glasses on his nose, tugged at his shirt to hide the lump, and fished the Coke out of his pocket, turning it over in his hands. It was cold, and the condensation quickly building up in his palm reminded him. _Act casual_.

He ran his fingers through his hair, mussing it up, and, holding his purchases in one hand (and tucked under that arm, since they all didn't fit in one hand), went up to the desk.

The man behind the register, a hulking guy in a wifebeater with tattoos decorating his biceps, blew out a stream of smoke from his cigarette and began punching numbers into the keyboard. "Seven ninety-nine is your total," he recited in a monotonous manner, holding out a hand for the money.

One who is trying to act casual does not always think. James, who didn't really think on a normal basis anyway – he was more of an impetuous, do-it-as-you-go type of guy – had a little trouble with this. But he was trying. After all, anyone who is guilty of shoplifting (he really didn't like thinking that word) is always trying to act casual. Sometimes a bit too hard.

So James, who wasn't really thinking, still having his food tucked under one arm, made the unfortunate mistake of trying to push a bag of chips, a packet of gummy worms, and a Coke onto a counter, while reaching around to get his money out of his pocket, while attempting to keep a stolen package of delicious caramels in his waistband, all while wearing too-loose jeans.

The shirt rode up, and the caramels, which weren't very securely hidden in the first place, thunked onto the floor with an audible crinkly sound.

"Shit," James swore without thinking. The storekeeper looked up from where he had been making change.

"Shit," he swore again, having realized that the previous statement had just dispelled any innocence he might have retained up to this point.

The clerk saw the frozen James, the pack of caramels on the floor, and put two and two together. His eyes narrowed and he lowered his cigarette, suddenly very awake and alert. And scary. James, who was six-one but still shorter than this thug, seemed to shrink before that steely, blue-eyed gaze. The owner of that stare reached out a big, meaty hand, complete with tattoo across the knuckles, and picked up the phone on the counter.

James did not move.

Then…

"Shit."

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**Please, please, please, _please_ tell me what you think!**

**Love and kisses,  
jackala345**


	3. To Steal A Heart: Step One

**Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed/favorited/alerted last chapter! I really appreciate it!**

* * *

Chapter Two: To Steal A Heart – Step One

_Note to self_, James thought,_ do not get caught stealing ever again_.

It was one of the hardest things he'd done in his life, honestly, just _walking_ out of the station without saying anything snappy, without shaking a finger and a few choice words in that snobby policeman's face. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, tasting the iron tang of blood from where he had chomped down on it, holding all the angry responses in. It had taken some phenomenal willpower.

But luckily, his normally frayed self-control had decided to recede while he sat in that hard metal chair, the overly bright light shining in his face, and let Mature James take over.

Luckily.

He stuffed another chip into his mouth and sighed, Bach humming in the back of his brain. Right now, he was simply trying not to relive the painful questioning session. "Painful" meaning "acting like he was actually twenty-two instead of fourteen". The officer's squeaky, pompous, we-just-need-to-ask-you-a-few-questions voice, and the way James had had to dig his fingernails into his palms to keep himself from making some retorts that were _way_ overdue – that had been pure torture. It was just a few caramels, for God's sake! He had been (had been? He still was) hungry!

Finally, he managed to form the words that summed up the entire experience:

"Thank the freaking Lord _that's_ over."

James was reclining on a bench by the bus stop, iPod headphones in once more and chip bag open in his lap. Already about a fourth of them were gone, and his fingers were covered in the delicious barbecue-y powder. He licked them, relishing the taste, and crunched down on another chip. Police questionings made him hungry. Storing that fact away, he kept eating.

His hunger was finally quenched when both the chips and the gummy worms were gone. He had been forced to return the caramels, but the police had been feeling nice and let him keep the other stuff he'd bought. James tapped the side of the Coke bottle with his fingernails a few times – a trick he'd learned from Remus to keep it from fizzing over once it was opened – and twisted the cap. It foamed, but none of the bubbles came close to spilling onto his hand. Tilting his head back, he drank down half the soda, then adjusted his headphones in his ears just as one of Haydn's sonatas began to play.

Speaking of Remus, he wouldn't be too happy with James, the boy mused, crossing his legs. Sirius would probably laugh, saying that _he_ could've gotten out of there with the caramels, no problem. Peter would no doubt be in awe that James hadn't received at least a night in jail. Luckily, the police had known nothing of James' previous track record when it came to stealing. The five boxes of popcorn, three candy bars, four sets of silverware, and five pairs of scissors, among others, had been more successfully hidden in his jean pockets and jacket sleeves. And that wasn't even the worst of it – thanks to James, seven people in this world were missing at least thirty bucks, Sirius, Peter, and himself owned nice headphones, and they all had a way to charge their various iPods.

But Remus had refused the gifts. He would be angry, no doubt. James still remembered the last time he had stolen something – it was the headphones that now spewed Brahms into his own ears…

* * *

_His watch read six-oh-three when he pushed open the door to the apartment. Sirius' shift at Abercrombie ended at five, Remus and Peter would have been home since five-thirty. So James was the last one home. This was surprising, as he was usually first, but today had been special…_

_ The smell of pizza was strong, and as the black-haired boy entered the living room that split off into a kitchen, he saw the three boxes open on the table alongside a 2-liter bottle of Dr. Pepper. Sirius was sprawled across the couch, a slice of cheese in hand, watching a Stanford women's soccer game on the old TV with interest. Peter was munching pepperoni and flipping through a book of receipts, muttering to himself. And Remus was leaning against the table, reading, and thoughtfully chewing ham-and-pineapple._

_ "Save any for me?" James joked, reaching past Remus and taking a swig from the soda, before picking up a piece of pepperoni. Sirius reached for the Dr. Pepper and James gave it to him._

_ "Hey, James," chorused Sirius and Peter, while the remaining boy looked up at the spectacled youth and frowned._

_ "James, why are you so late?"_

_ James stuffed half the pizza in his mouth to avoid replying, knowing of his friend's hatred to what he had been doing that had made him late. His hands automatically pushed their way into his pockets. Around the food, he mumbled, "Lost track of time." It was a poor excuse, and Remus' eyes narrowed._

_ "You have a _watch_, James."_

_ The black-haired boy shrugged nonchalantly. "What can I say? I'm a forgetful person." His fingers struck something in his pocket and without thinking, he pulled it out and set it on the table._

_ Remus followed the movement, stared at the iPod. James bit into garlic crust, chewed, then found himself looking at his music player as well, the thoughts registering in his brain a second too late._

_ He lunged to grab it and stuff it back into his pocket, but Remus was quick, and managed to yank the headphones out of the headphone jack before James could do anything._

_ "James, what are these?" The earbuds, shiny, new, and a complete giveaway, dangled in front of hazel eyes, which were half-crossed, trying to keep both angry face and newly attained item in sight. Quickly, without thinking, James reached up and grabbed them out of his friend's fist, then immediately regretted it. Remus, especially when he was in this mood, was nothing to take lightly._

_ "Um… headphones?" They dangled from James' fingers._

_ The silence hurt his ears. Remus set his book down, very deliberately, as if trying not to break it. The muted thud it made on the table was deafening._

_ Peter stopped talking to himself, instead closing the receipt book with a barely audible rustle and shrinking back. Sirius, who had been loudly munching away, closed his mouth, swallowed, and reached for the remote, pressing the volume button._

_ "SHE WHIPS PAST THE LAST DEFENDER AND SCORES…!"_

_ Neither James nor Remus paid any attention to the suddenly blaring television set. _

_ Instead, the sandy-haired boy took a very deep breath, and closed his eyes briefly, a sign of intense frustration. "James…"_

_ "Look, Remus, they're just a pair of headphones. What's the big deal?" The words slipped out before he knew it, and James resisted the urge to clap his hand over his mouth and groan as Remus glared at him, eyes stony._

_ "What's the big deal_?_" His voice was very quiet. Quiet was dangerous. James recoiled about two inches._

_ In the background: Sirius gestured wildly at the TV. "Hey look, Peter, it's that hot chick!"_

_ "What's the big _deal_, James?" Remus took a half step forward. James cursed himself. Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad._

_ Then Remus exploded._

_ "The big DEAL, as you so eloquently put it, is that you are STEALING. Did you know, JAMES POTTER, that stealing is a CRIME? As in, you could get put in JAIL if you got CAUGHT? Look, I dealt with the silverware, and the scissors, and the money, because we needed them at the time, but ENOUGH is ENOUGH." He leaned forward so his face was barely an inch away from James' own. "All the rest of us have JOBS, James. We're working hard – hell, even SIRIUS has managed to keep his job for more than a fucking MONTH…"_

_ "Hey!" protested Sirius weakly. The glare that Remus shot him was ice. Sirius turned back to the TV, where Peter said quickly and loudly: "She IS rather hot, Sirius…"_

_ But the hotness of the soccer player was lost on the furious boy in front of James. "We are ALL working to stay in this apartment, to pay the fucking RENT for God's sake, and there YOU are, walking around, STEALING THINGS. I KNOW you came from a rich family, James, and Lord knows you could get a job if you actually WANTED one, so how about you just TRY, for ONE FUCKING SECOND, to see this from OUR perspective? I don't CARE if you really wanted these headphones, I don't CARE if you got some for Sirius and Peter before you stole them for YOURSELF. What I CARE about, James, is that EVERY SINGLE TIME you walk past a display for something you WANT, you can't control yourself enough to not just TAKE IT. What I CARE about is that one day you are going to get CAUGHT, and then you're gonna get put in JAIL, and guess who's gonna have to work to bail you out? YES. THAT'S RIGHT. WE are. THAT is what I care about, you little…"_

_ Remus trailed off, and it seemed like his anger faded a little then, and the weariness showed on his young face even as he stepped back a pace and sighed, more out of disappointment than anything. James stuffed his hands in his pockets, the wire of the headphones hanging out of the corner, and dropped his gaze. _

_ When Remus spoke once more, his voice was soft._

_ "No more stealing, James. Please."_

_ James swallowed, glanced up at his friend's pleading face. The expression on it was so full of worry that he felt all the guilt inside of him swell up and burst, like a bubble. He nodded._

_ "All right, Remus. No more stealing."_

* * *

Now, the guilt was back, drumming at his brain.

_The other boys might have jobs, but this is the way _I _make my living,_ he told himself stolidly, chugging some more Coke. The pang that the thought sent to his chest was ignored, like always.

Instead, he turned his head to study the schedule pasted on the side of the dingy glass half-box that constituted the bus stop. The bus at twelve twenty-seven would take him within a quarter mile of his apartment. Good. At least he didn't have to walk. James leaned back on the bench, crossing his legs, and closed his eyes, facing his head up towards the sky. The sun painted red on the backs of his lids, and the sonata closed with a powerful chord in D major.

The twelve-sixteen bus pulled up to the curb with a screech, and the group of people that had been slowly accumulating around him filed onto the steps. James stood up, crumpled the empty snack bags into a ball, and tossed them at the nearest trashcan. They bounced against the edge and tipped into the metal container with a rustling sound.

He pulled his iPod out of his pocket and put on Scott Joplin's "Entertainer". He wanted something happier and peppier to help him pass the time.

* * *

Lily had classes starting at two and it was eleven forty-five. Two hours. Two hours to finish all her errands. She shifted one of her grocery bags onto the other arm to balance herself out more evenly and pinged open the door to the dry-cleaners', entering with an ungainly amount of crinkling. She winced as the people in line turned to look at her, their eyes curious.

Dryly, she thought to herself, _Thank God there's a line_, as she allowed herself a brief moment of rest, putting down the bags and rubbing at the red marks they had pushed into her skin. _That's me, finding the good in everything_.

With a quick scan of the hangers and the plastic-covered clothing dangling from them – there was her super-nice blue dress, right in the corner – she took her wallet out from her purse and searched through it for a second before pulling out the paper that told the man behind the desk which article of clothing was hers. Lily gave it a brief once-over. She could barely discern what it said. How could people read that scrawl? It was beyond messy.

_It's like the prescriptions you get at the doctor's office_, was her absentminded response to her own question. Even though that was the logical answer, Lily amused herself by pretending it was a secret code, known only to those who could write equally as horrible as the person sending the message. Nothing better to do to pass the time. She hated lines.

She lugged her bags two feet forward when the customer in front departed carrying about six hanger-fuls of suits and pressed shirts. Dropping them heavily once everyone else stopped moving, she studied her palms, which the thick-paper handles had already cut into, with some regret. God, how much could some groceries _weigh_? Her poor hands were being mutilated all because she hadn't had any strawberries for her smoothie. Not that her need for the drink had evaporated. She still wanted it. A lot.

After about ten more minutes of waiting and coming up with stories about the people in front of her – the old woman with about sixty bangles around her wrist was an enchantress, and the jangly bracelets the source of her power, and the teenager bouncing up on the balls of her feet, glancing every so often out the door where a car was surely idling, was collecting lingerie for her secret late-night escapades with her lover – Lily found herself at the front of the line, groceries planted at her feet. _Finally_.

The man at the counter was mildly handsome with a pierced ear and short blonde hair, and he smiled at her before taking the paper she held out to him. Lily rolled her eyes as he turned his back. Stupid flirts.

She found herself rolling them again when he handed the hanger to her and held on a little longer than necessary, flashing white teeth in what was obviously supposed to be an alluring grin. The redhead, unable to pry the garment from his grasping fingers, decided to go offensive with an inner groan. She tilted her head to the side and gave him her best dazzling smile, which did what it was intended to: the man gaped, his grip loosened, and she tugged the dress free.

"Thank you!" she exclaimed, all fake pep, and slung her grocery bags heavily onto her arms, marching out of the store.

Stupid flirts.

The bus stop was a block away, a distance she really didn't feel like walking. But despite her mental protesting, she found herself teetering her way towards it. Her whole upper body literally felt like it was dying. The grocery bags were _fucking heavy_!

She was trying to find a way to safely fold up the Saran-wrapped dress without wrinkling the fabric, and was so preoccupied that she nearly ran into the dirty-glassed side of the bus stop. Blushing, she glanced around to make sure no one had seen her clumsiness. Luckily, no one seemed to be watching. Lily backed up, tucking her garment under her arm and securing it to her side using sheer elbow force. There. That would have to work.

The schedule read: _Stanford – 12:27. _Lily checked her watch. It was noon now. Twenty- seven minutes to kill. She wasn't particularly good at killing time, especially since she was the type of girl who always needed to have something to do, whether it was errands or essays or even just going out with friends to a movie. Lily wasn't practiced in the art of being bored, simply because she never was. So she opted not to sit on the bench beside the curb and lounge like others were doing.

Instead, she headed for the small coffee shop just beyond the stop, thinking to buy something to drink. She knew Marlene, whose classes ended at one today, would appreciate a latte. And she would rather wait twenty-seven minutes in the air conditioning, where she could put her groceries down and be sure that the chocolate cake wouldn't melt.

The prospect of allowing her poor arms some rest was enough to propel her quickly towards the café.

The bell over the shop's door jingled as she pushed it open with her shoulder and headed inside, the smell of muffins and coffee blending together pleasantly. She headed for a lone table hiding in the corner and sunk down gratefully in the hard chair, shoving her bags onto the table with a sigh. Stretching her arms to make sure they weren't permanently damaged (they weren't), she leaned back against the wall, letting herself relax, her eyelids sinking closed. Just a bus ride, and then she'd be back at the dorm. Thank God.

She opened her eyes. Call it coincidence, but the first thing she saw was a poster in the window proclaiming: _New Strawberry-Banana Shake! Only $3.99!_

Lily just wanted to go home so she could make her own goddamn strawberry-banana-kiwi smoothie. It was better than anything this Starbucks wannabee could cook up.

But with a sigh, feeling the need to be a good friend, and because Marlene's Lit class often tired the crap out of the brunette, Lily headed for the counter, scanning the menu: one large latte, coming right up.

* * *

The bus lurched forward abruptly, and Lily, who was already loaded down with the groceries, plus her dry-cleaning and the latte she'd bought for Marlene and her purse, couldn't help it.

She fell.

Unfortunately for her, all the helpful little poles that everyone had hung on to when the bus started moving were occupied, and although she scrabbled to grasp something, anything, she found herself unbalanced and unsteady thanks to the shitload of stuff she was carrying.

She was helpless to the laws of gravity. _Fuck Newton_, she thought wildly as she spun her arms, attempting to regain balance.

She managed to let out a little "Ah!" of surprise, but everyone around her was too busy either checking their iPhones or gazing out the window to even think about turning towards her.

It wasn't even a graceful fall, either. It was more of a "let's-watch-this-crazy-redhead-who's-carrying-_way_-too-much-stuff-fall-over-and-not-help-her" fall. Lily supposed that the people on the bus didn't have an obligation to help her. It wasn't like _she _would have volunteered to be the one to break her own fall, had she been watching. All of this ran through her head in the span of about three-quarters of a second, from the time when the bus sprang forward in a haze of gray exhaust to when she stumbled over her own feet and tumbled backwards.

Somehow, though, in the next half second before she hit the ground, luck was on her side.

Hands came around her waist, gripping her firmly. The fingers – all she could see of this person – were masculine, making her think that it was a guy who was supporting her. They pushed her back up into a reasonably upright position, and then brushed against all her bags, realigning them on her arms, before withdrawing quickly.

Lily rotated as quickly as she could given the amount of space she had and the bus's zigzagging route, staggering but keeping her balance.

The man who had helped her to her feet – well, at least she _thought_ it was him – had turned completely away, staring out the back window. From what she could see, he had messy black hair, tanned skin, and was tall, much taller than she was, wearing jeans and a dark blue T-shirt. Tucked under his left elbow was a half-empty Coke, and she could see the headphones snaking from his ears to disappear in front of him.

"Thanks," she said, pitching her voice louder, since he was listening to music.

He didn't seem to have heard her, only shrugged his hands into his pockets.

"Excuse me?" Lily would have tapped his shoulder, except her arms were so weighed down by all her stuff that she couldn't find the energy to. "Um, sir?"

The man stayed where he was.

"Thank you," Lily said loudly. The old lady sitting in the seat (lucky bitch) by her left hip shot her a dirty look that read obviously, _Shut up please_.

A little bemused, the redhead turned away, and when the man hopped off the steps of the bus and walked the other way down the sidewalk two stops later, she did not notice.

* * *

James hopped up the steps of the bus, his iPod now playing Schumann, and glanced around half-heartedly for a seat. The small space was so stuffed with people that he didn't exactly expect to find one, so instead he squirmed through the crowd and managed to find a place where he could breathe. Kind of.

It was a moment later that the bus spewed out a load of smoke, exhaled like an old man who'd had a few too many cigarettes – he could hear it through his music – and then leapt out onto the street. James was an expert at these types of transportation, and swayed with the movement of the wheels, staying on his feet. A few people around him pinwheeled their arms and managed to keep themselves upright.

Except one.

A petite redhead who was laden with bags, facing away from James, staggered backwards a step, threw out her arms for balance, and found herself thrown off by the unequal weights dangling from the crooks of her elbows. Her mouth opened, letting out a yelp of surprise that was inaudible due to the piano that James was currently listening to, tripped onto her heels, and began to fall.

James watched for a second, not really intending on doing anything, and then he glimpsed the wallet poking halfway out of her purse.

Okay, so maybe the temptation was a _little_ too much.

He tucked the Coke he had been holding under his left arm and was behind her in a step, reaching out to grab her cardiganed waist, his large hands holding her up easily. With the smooth moves of a professional (although he didn't really call himself one) he pushed her up so she was standing on those two boot-clad feet and then slipped his right hand deftly into her purse, pulling out the wallet with a quick, practiced movement and sliding it into his pocket. Then he ran his fingers over her bags, acting like he was simply straightening all the handles, but actually hiding any sign of his pickpocketing. Covering all his tracks.

Like an expert.

He pivoted on his heel quickly, the music loud in his ears. He had learned that, to avoid suspicion, you had to have as little contact as possible from the person you had just stolen from. He would look like any other guy on the street from the back – jeans, black hair, blue shirt. And the headphones would provide an excuse for him to possibly not hear her, in case she was the clingy type and wanted to say thank-you about a million times.

He heard a differently-pitched tone from that of the violin that was crooning from his iPod, possibly her voice, but did not turn around. Instead, he continued to pretend he was staring intently at something out the back window of the bus, put his hands in his pockets, and balanced the wallet in his palm. It was soft leather, with a zipper and some sort of design embossed on the front. His finger traced the surface, learning its shape – long and rectangular, very feminine – and its size – small enough to fit in his palm, but large enough to hold a good amount of money and credit cards. A small grin traced his face. After that police questioning and unwanted flashback, it was his lucky day.

Two stops later, James climbed off the bus and turned towards his apartment building, chugging the last of the Coke and tossing it into an empty trash bin. He hummed along to Beethoven and sauntered down the sidewalk.

James was a practiced actor. The spring in his step was as genuine as any. But just as most wouldn't know that he was listening to classical instead of heavy metal, none would realize that his casualness was completely and utterly forced.

The guilt in his chest was a thousand-pound weight holding him down to the scratchy sidewalk.

_Don't worry, Remus will never know,_ he consoled himself.

_About what, you stupid asshole?_ _The caramels or the wallet?_

Beethoven's ninth symphony ended. Tchaikovsky's "Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy" began to play.

_Both_.

James tried to match his walk to the lightness of the song, but his heart was heavy, and it dragged, countering his bouncy manner.

_No more stealing, James. Please_.

_All right, Remus. No more stealing._

* * *

**Please review! I love hearing what you think :)**

**Love,  
jackala345**


	4. A Promise, A Papercut, and A Picture

**Chapter three is much longer than any of the other ones... more than a thousand words longer actually. It also provides a VERY important basis for the story (one of the main ones).**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter Three: A Promise, A Papercut, and A Picture

Lily shouldered through the door in an ungainly symphony of crackling paper and crinkling plastic, holding the latte out in front of her to prevent an unwelcome spill.

The door banged loudly shut behind her, but she didn't notice. Usually she was averse to slamming, but she was too tired to care. With a huge sigh of relief, she dropped the grocery bags onto the counter, set her purse beside them. She stretched out her arms to rub the marks that had been etched into the pale skin, and smoothed the rolled-up sleeves of her cardigan down over the bag-burn. Was that even a phrase? She grinned to herself as she set the coffee cup on the counter and began to unpack the groceries, stuffing the necessary ones into the fridge and placing the rest in the cabinets that served as a pantry. If it wasn't an ailment before, it certainly was now. The red skin on her forearms was enough to prove it.

She glanced at her watch – one oh five. Classes in less than an hour, and she should probably prepare, make sure she had her necessary assignments and all, but she had some more important matters to attend to.

She needed her smoothie.

Badly.

Lily hadn't bothered to put the strawberries away, knowing that she would need them a second later, so she opened the carton with minimal trouble and found the bananas, kiwis, and yogurt in the fridge (Aah! Pre-smoothie freakout time!). The blender was still on the counter where she'd left it this morning, although Marlene had had the sense to unplug it. She stuck the cord into the socket and started to peel the bananas, breaking it into chunks. The yogurt slopped into the container, joined shortly by the banana chunks and kiwi pieces, along with the strawberries, of course.

In a minute, the appliance was whirring and her delicious, however belated, drink was well on its way to creation.

The sound of a key turning in the lock snapped Lily out of her watching-fruit-liquefy-euphoria, and she turned just in time to see her roommate stumble through the door, looking utterly exhausted, brown hair wrapped up in a ragged ponytail, a sheaf of papers held limply in her hand.

Lit class tired Marlene out.

"You alright?" asked Lily sympathetically, letting go of the PUREE button and opening the cupboard above her head to produce a large cup. She snapped up the plastic top and began to pour out her smoothie.

"M'fine," replied the brunette with a yawn, slapping the papers down on the counter.

"I thought you might be tired, so I bought you a latte." This statement was thrown out rather absentmindedly, as Lily was occupied with preserving every drop of her smoothie on its hazardous, one-inch journey from glass blender to plastic cup. But Marlene's eyes opened wide, suddenly alert.

"You did? Where is it?"

"There."

Her roommate lunged like an alcoholic who had just been offered an overflowing mug of the finest beer, and for a moment there was nothing but the sound of slurping, both from the coffee-deprived girl by the counter and the redhead in the shadows of the tiny kitchen, who, having just taken her first sip of smoothie, was now finding it hard to stop.

Marlene surfaced. "I love you, Evans."

Lily laughed. "Anytime, honey." She drank again, the sweet, yogurt-tinged taste bursting across her tongue.

With a groan, Marlene sat herself down on one of the rickety wooden stools lining the counter, expertly managing the rocking of the unstable legs, and picked up the papers she had slammed down previously on the marble top.

"How'd you do?" Lily gestured to the paper in her friend's hands, setting down her cup for a second to unplug the blender and toss it into the sink.

The brunette sipped from her coffee. "All right, I guess." She shoved the essay towards Lily and the redhead picked it up, scanning it briefly before reading the comments written across the bottom: _Needs more focus on the effects of figurative language, but overall well-written._ _Good job_.

"What are you talking about? That's good! Although," Lily added with a wry smile, "I don't understand any of it."

Marlene reached over and shoved her roommate playfully. "That's because _you_ are Miss Graphic-Design-Fancy-Computer-Maniac. While _I_ am the more distinguished Scholar, dedicated to making the world more knowledgeable on the unparalleled subject of English literature."

"You shush." Lily rolled her eyes. Then she downed another gulp of smoothie.

Because, yes, it was _that _good.

* * *

"Marlene! I'm headed to GD class!"

The brunette had retired to her room after finishing the latte, so Lily slung her purse over her shoulder and threw her empty smoothie cup into the sink, where it clanged against the blender.

"Have fun!"

"I will!" the redhead laughed as she left, the door swinging shut behind her.

She checked her watch as she made her way down the steps and towards the bike rack at the left of the dorm. Her college was conveniently set up so everyone biked everywhere, and she had to say, it was a great method of travel. Lily entered the combination that opened her lock and maneuvered her turquoise bike onto the sidewalk, hopping on swiftly. She pedaled across the quad – it was one fifty, which meant she had plenty of time to get to her graphic design class. She found herself humming, probably due to the fact that she loved graphic design. That was why it was her major, after all.

As she parked her bike on a rack, locked it, and walked up the steps to the Arts building where she had her class, she dug through her bag, looking for her ID card. The Stanford students and teachers were required to have their cards, partly for identification, and partly because all the buildings in the college were locked and only opened once the card was swiped in a little terminal that resided by the entrance. Lily happened to keep hers in her wallet.

But her wallet wasn't there.

"Where is it?" she muttered to herself as she pawed back through her purse, turning over old papers, napkins with drawings on them, tampons, a pack of tissues. She rummaged through it twice, but to no avail. The distinctive leather pocketbook was not there.

With a confused sigh – she _knew_ she hadn't taken it out after she bought that latte for Marlene – she sat down on the step and was about to dump everything from her bag onto the concrete when she felt something dig into her upper thigh.

She stuck a hand in her pocket (why did they make female jeans pockets sotight?) and drew from it a plastic rectangle. For a second, with a fleeting hope that was quickly dashed, she thought it was her ID card. It wasn't. Instead, she had pulled out a credit card.

"When did this get in here?" she wondered, searching her mind for any episode that would explain this strange occurrence. She kept all her credit cards in her wallet, which was… gone.

Then she remembered the episode in the supermarket, when she had taken it back from the clerk, and put it between her teeth so she could get her wallet out of her purse, and dropped the grocery bags, and stuffed the card into her pocket as she knelt to pick up everything that had fallen…

So she had this credit card. But where was her wallet?

She glanced at her watch. One fifty-six.

Lily cursed and stood back up. She couldn't go back to her dorm, look for her wallet, and return by two. That was impossible. Not to mention unreasonable. If she came back with her ID card, she'd be pegged as (very) tardy. She knew her GD professor, Dr. Horace, wouldn't really mind because he loved her, but she disliked tardiness. Namely because she was never late (and never planned to be).

She couldn't see anyone around her who happened to be in her class, or even headed towards the general direction of the building. The red tiles on the roofs cast shadows on the ground below, but to the best of her knowledge, no one lurked within them. _Just as well_, she thought. All her fellow students were like her – always on time (normally early), always hard-working, always completely honest, and none of them had _ever_ lost an ID card.

Until her.

So she saw only one feasible option, something she came to just as her watch beeped for two.

She went to see her dean.

* * *

"I swear, Marlene, when I find the bastard who stole my wallet, I'm going to – !"

"Mhm. You do that," murmured her roommate from where she was lounging on the couch, stroking the cat, and watching a rerun of _How I Met Your Mother_ on their small television.

Meanwhile, the redhead was pacing around the room, wielding the spare ID card she'd received from the dean like a knife and spitting out expletives left and right. She had thought through the event of her disappeared wallet long and hard and come to a pretty solid conclusion. Lily was not one to misplace or lose things. She was _positive_ that she had put her wallet back in her bag after buying that latte, albeit not very securely, and she knew that the crowded buses like the one she had ridden back to the campus were home for pickpockets. Someone like her – she'd been completely loaded down by bags, she had been off balance and disoriented on the ride, and her wallet had been sticking half-out of her purse – was an easy target.

"Marlene! Are you even _listening_ to me?"

"Kind of," the brunette admitted. "Something about tearing out someone's eyeballs with a spoon and stuffing them down their throat, I think… but other than that, no."

"Ugh!" Lily threw her arms up in the air and sank down on the couch beside her friend. Mila meowed, stood up, and picked her way over to the redhead, where she stretched and curled back up. "Traitor," said Marlene, while Lily petted the cat absentmindedly, then tossed the ID onto the coffee table. She drew something else from her pocket: the credit card that she had found there previously. "See this, Marlene?"

Marlene turned and went cross-eyed at the object Lily was waving half an inch from her nose. "Um… it's a credit card?"

"It's not _just_ a credit card," said Lily emphatically, shaking the plastic rectangle. Marlene looked rather alarmed.

"Uh, yes it is, Lils. Are you sure you're okay?"

"It's not _just_ a credit card," repeated the redhead, ignoring the question, "it's my _only_ credit card. My _only_ source of money and my _only_ way to survive at this moment. And don't call me Lils!"

Her roommate raised an eyebrow. "I think you're being a little dramatic here. And have some faith. I have a job, too."

Over the weekends and in her spare time, Lily tutored kids in math. Marlene was a waitress at a diner and worked evenings from six to eleven.

Lily assented. "Right, you do. Sorry. And I don't know _what_ I'd do without you, Marlene. But sadly," she raged again, anger flaring, "in case you didn't notice, my wallet was just _stolen_!" She ignored the brunette's "I did" and continued: "And now I don't have any cash, and I have _one_ credit card, and plus I don't have my license and ID! Do you know what kinds of problems this brings up?"

"You can't drive anywhere?"

"Exactly! And I have a tutoring job in a few days and unless I can get my wallet back I'll have to call and cancel, which is at _least_ sixty bucks down the drain. Not to mention that I can't get into clubs, or get alcohol – much less drink it – and that _sucks!_"

"You don't drink, Lily."

She waved a hand impatiently. "I don't care! The important thing is I _can_ if I want to!"

Marlene shrugged, conceding the point. "I guess you could take the bus to your tutoring session and then walk from wherever's closest. Or you could just bike, if that's easier. I'd drive you, but Jeff's coming over that night."

Jeff McKinnon was Marlene's long-time boyfriend of three years, a tall, full-of-life presence that radiated happy waves wherever he went, a senior just like them who was working towards a degree in interior design. Marlene really liked him – enough to almost say she loved him, and Lily approved of him (and his major choice), which was about as far as she would get with any boy that dated her best friend. He was a good match for her, and his tall, chiseled blonde looks complemented her roommate's softer, prettier, but tough-as-nails aura.

But she digressed.

"I know." Lily stroked Mila's soft fur and the cat purred. "It's just… when you think about it, not having your license or anything is really hard. And plus, when it rains, what am I supposed to do about Jamie?"

Jamie was Lily's beat-up sedan, a car that, unfortunately, froze up and stopped working when it rained. The redhead was always forced to take it on a drive the day after, regardless of her schedule or workload. If she didn't, she'd have to bring it to a mechanic and pay an absurd amount of money to have a man screw around in her poor car's engine – something that she had figured out the hard way after three days straight of downpours and test prep. So she did so with an admirable devotion, feigning reluctance whenever she had to. In fact, she enjoyed the drives in solitude, antique radio playing music from the 80's.

"I could take Jamie on a drive for you if it rains," the brunette relented, and Lily threw her arms around her friend, causing the cat to squeal indignantly and jump off the couch, heading for a safer place to nap. Mila's gray-streaked tail disappeared behind Marlene's half-open bedroom door, and Marlene made a move to get up and drag the cat out of her room before Lily stopped her short with another squeezing hug.

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Weber."

"Probably die," replied the girl with a half-smile. "Now let go of me. I have to get to the diner in a hour and there's a stubborn-ass cat in my room."

* * *

The last strains of Chopin's Prelude in G minor were just fading away when James opened the door to his apartment at one thirteen.

No one was home (obviously, they were all working) so he thought it was safe to take the wallet out of his pocket and toss it onto the couch. His jeans pockets were large, but _damn!_ Manufacturers were really stretching the size of female wallets these days. James looked at the wallet for a moment, wondering if he should look through it now or wait until he had a nap (police questionings made him tired as well as hungry). He decided on the latter. After all, he'd wake up before Remus got home at five-thirty.

He headed for the bedroom that he and Sirius shared and paused his iPod before yanking the buds out of his ears and tossing the whole bundle onto the bedside table. Then he pulled off his jeans and collapsed into the bed, turning over with a yawn. There were still a few more days before Sirius got the bed – they traded every week – and he was going to spend as much time in that darn thing as he could.

He realized he still had his glasses on and took them off, placing them on the table next to his iPod, although a lot more gently. Those wire-rimmed frames were actually very fragile. Then he flopped onto his back, closed his eyes (he was _really_ tired) and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

"JAMES!"

The door banged open and he blinked, staring up at the ceiling for a second before shaking his head to clear his thoughts and looking towards the direction of the voice. The world was blurry and it took him a second to figure out why. Then he fumbled for his glasses, sliding them up his nose as he rubbed the back of his neck, and slouched into a sitting position.

It was Remus.

He glanced at his alarm clock. Five thirty-seven.

"Fuck," he groaned.

Remus still quivered in the doorway, amber eyes narrowed and brandishing something in his hand. "James. Whose wallet is this?"

Wallet?

His mind wasn't working. Everything was still muddy with sleep. He stared blankly at his friend, not really registering the words.

"James," Remus repeated for the third time.

"What?" he asked defiantly.

Remus rolled his eyes in exasperation, gave a big sigh, and said very slowly, "James, did you steal this wallet?"

Wallet wallet wallet wallet…

Oh!

He blinked a few times, remembering the previous events of the day. _A stolen bag of caramels. Bright lights and the voice of a fat policeman. Flashbacks. The Entertainer. Twelve twenty-seven and getting on a bus. Bus lurching forward. Redheaded girl falling. Pocketbook sticking out of her purse. Catching her and sliding a hand into her bag. Leather wallet heavy in his pockets…_

"Shit." He swung his legs out of bed and began searching through the piles of clothes scattered across the floor, looking for his jeans. He had to get to the wallet before Remus came home! A lump of blue caught his eye and he picked it up. Nope, it was one of Sirius' shirts. Keep looking, quick, what time was it? Five thirty-eight? Remus was going to be back soon…

"_JAMES!_"

The voice startled him, and he spun around, clasping his jeans in his hand. "What?"

Remus held out the wallet. "Did you, or did you not, steal this?"

_SHIT_. He was home already? The thoughts were fuzzy. James was frozen for a moment before relaxing into an easy smile, a thousand excuses running through his head. He pulled on his pants and chose the easiest one. "I found it."

His friend glared. "We both know you're lying, James."

"No, really," protested the latter. "I _did_ find it. Honest."

Remus advanced a step forward, expertly maneuvering around a heap of dirty boxers. "James. Don't lie to me."

James zipped up his fly and shrugged, running his fingers through his hair, a look of complete innocence plastered across his face. "I'm not lying, Remus! I found it! I found it in a girl's…"

He must be more tired than he thought, he lamented, trailing off abruptly. But Remus had caught the slip-up. The boy raised an eyebrow skeptically. "You found it in a girl's… _what,_ exactly? Her pocket, maybe? Or her bag? Or even her freaking _bra?_"

The game was over. Any more made-up stories on his part and Remus would see straight through it. With a sheepish expression and an inner sigh of resignation, the black-haired boy rubbed the back of his neck and glanced at the ground. "I found it in a girl's… purse."

Instead of being triumphant, Remus seemed even angrier than he had been previously. "James…"

"What?" answered James suddenly. "Why does it matter so much, Remus? It's just a girl's wallet, for God's sake! She can get another one! And it's not like we don't need the money, admit it... it's just as helpful as any job."

Remus' eyes blazed, and James experienced a brief sense of déjà vu. He wrenched himself back to the situation at hand.

"It is not _just_ a girl's wallet! You don't know what she had in here!" He gestured at the wallet impatiently. "You've just taken her license, all her money, maybe even a picture or keepsake she kept because it was so special to her! I don't care about what it gives _us_, don't you get it? I'm more worried about what it takes away from _her!_"

_Definitely_ déjà vu.

James pushed his glasses up his nose and considered the words. Of course, he hadn't thought of any of those selfless things, just about keeping the wallet out of Remus' sight and knowledge, and about how much money it would contain. He never really thought about the victims of his stealing before, just about the benefits it gave to him and his friends.

_Remus is right_.

He rubbed the back of his neck again, realizing the corner he had backed himself into. _Way to go, Potter_. Of course, he could simply ignore the guilt that had once again settled in the pit of his stomach and continue on his way. He could keep stealing, and leave the work to the other three. But he risked more than a questioning if he was caught. After all, the police knew about him now, and he would probably spend a few nights in jail, forcing his friends to bail him out and waste their money on something that he could have prevented himself, either by being more careful or…

… not stealing anymore?

Despite the fact that he had promised Remus to stop stealing, the idea was not appealing at first. But once he thought about it, it became more and more so. Sure, not stealing would mean that – well, what _were_ the advantages to his pickpocketing? People losing their money, perhaps more than that. The headphones and iPod chargers he'd stolen hadn't just taken away money, it had taken away business that might be the sole support system for someone's life. He got what he wanted, but it was through others' losses.

It was actually rather selfish.

He could get a job instead. He was smart, and came from a good school, and he was handsome enough and charming enough to make himself immediately likable. He could easily find work in a place like Abercrombie. He could fight off the guilt that always pervaded him when he thought of how little he worked in comparison to his friends and how little he provided to pay for the rent and their small, broken-down car. The thought of feeling proud of helping instead of shameful for not was a lot more tempting than the thought of continuing on with what he was doing now, which was… not much. At all.

And as he ran through this over and over in his mind, he found himself much more drawn to the latter, and he felt the thrill that comes immediately before making an important choice.

"Fine." He spoke without recognizing that he had reached a decision. "I'll give the wallet back."

Remus looked taken aback. "What?"

But James, having caught up with his brain, was on a roll, words spilling out of his mouth excitedly. "The girl I took it from was on the bus. It's route ended at Stanford, so she can't live very far away. Maybe she's a college student or something. Plus you said there would be her license and stuff in the wallet, so it would be super easy to figure out who she was and where she lived. I'll give it to her personally, and apologize for taking it."

Remus opened his mouth to interject, but his friend held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks.

"And," added James, "I'll quit stealing. Get a job or something. It's time I did something to help you guys pay for the rent."

Remus seemed speechless for a moment, just staring at his friend as if he had ripped off his shirt and begun pole-dancing. James grinned at his dumbstruck roommate, pretty much _seeing_ the wheels turning in his head as he processed the idea. He felt a buzz of adrenaline rush through his entire body. It had been a long time since he had set such a concrete goal for himself. And somehow… somehow, it felt really _good_.

Then a slow smile began to spread across Remus' face, the amber eyes lighting up like fireworks. At the same time, he dropped the wallet, crossed the room in two steps, and flung his arms around the surprised, black-haired youth.

"Oof! Sorry, Lupin, I don't swing that way." The breath was knocked out of him at Remus' sudden embrace, but he smiled anyway.

"Oh, our wittle baby James is growing up," laughed Remus, happier than James had seen him in a long time.

"Ah, shut up."

* * *

"You've lost your mind."

Sirius stared at him in awe, his gray eyes disbelieving.

"Nope," said James cheerfully, tossing the wallet up in the air and catching it deftly, barely glancing at it as it fell into his palm. "I'm perfectly fine."

"Stop stealing and get a _job_? There is _definitely_ something wrong with you. Sure you're not sick?" Jokingly, Sirius leaned in and rapped on James' forehead, then pulled up his eyelid to peer at the hazel irises with mock professionalism. "No, I do believe that your brain is malfunctioning, mate. Seems like a light has gone out in your head."

"Get off me," laughed James, shoving Sirius away good-naturedly.

"I need to make sure you're okay, Potter. It's what friends do." Sirius, undaunted, pushed past James' protesting once more and this time began examining his scalp, spreading the black hair to the sides and studying the pale skin underneath closely.

"Stop touching me! Friends don't grope each other! REMUS, SIRIUS IS MOLESTING ME! You pedophile."

"I'm _younger_ than you," reminded Sirius, sitting back finally and reaching for the television remote.

"Whatever."

Remus and Peter entered the room right as Sirius flipped on the TV to a rerun of _How I Met Your Mother_, Peter carrying some white boxes that smelled strongly of Chinese, and Remus holding napkins, chopsticks, forks, and a bottle of Sprite.

"Takeout! Fan-_tas-_tic." Rubbing his palms together, Sirius sniffed the air hungrily and forgot all about Lily and Marshall arguing on-screen. "Yum."

Peter set the boxes on the table and started opening them while Remus passed out cutlery and napkins.

"I don't need a napkin, Remus, I've never dropped anything on myself in my life." Sirius pushed the offering aside along with Remus' disbelieving scoff and instead picked up his fork, stabbing at lo mein noodles with little success. "Stupid thing."

"You're supposed to use _chopsticks_, Sirius." James demonstrated skillfully, picking up a huge hunk of orange chicken and stuffing it into his mouth, whole.

"You guys are both repulsive," compromised Remus, taking a normal-sized piece of chicken for himself and eating it.

"Hey…!"

"I heard you're gonna get a job, James." Peter, ever the peacemaker, served himself some fried rice.

James brightened. "Yeah. Know of any places that're hiring?"

"I think Victoria's Secret has a few openings," said Sirius with a completely straight face.

Peter dissolved into laughter while James arched an eyebrow and looked at him haughtily. "For your information, Black, I know a _hell_ of a lot about female undergarments than you ever will – "

"Yeah, 'cause you've gotten laid _so_ many more times than me – "

"But _before_ he starts looking for a job, he's going to return the wallet, _right, _James?" interrupted Remus pointedly, shooting daggers at Sirius.

"Yep," replied James, his voice decidedly less enthusiastic. He had decided that this part was going to be the hardest, not to mention the least fun. After all, he didn't know the girl who had almost fallen on the bus. He hadn't even seen her face! It was going to be _very_ difficult to knock on her door, give back her wallet, and _apologize for stealing it_. How many people that he knew would take that well?

A big fat zero, that's how many.

"Come on, open it," urged Sirius, jogging him with his elbow. "You have to know who you stole it from to give it back."

James stuffed a great pile of noodles in his mouth to postpone the moment, but Sirius was knowledgeable about James' avoiding tactics. The handsome boy simply lifted an eyebrow in a look that clearly said _You're not fooling me so get on with it_.

Reluctantly the black-haired boy swallowed and looked at the pocketbook in his lap, suddenly very hesitant to open it.

"Come on," said Sirius again. "Who knows, she might be _really_ hot."

_Or she could be extremely ugly. And fat. And deformed with a peg leg._ But this was the least of James' worries. Besides, he knew she wasn't fat, at least. He remembered that the girl had actually been rather petite in comparison to him. Then again, most people were.

He was more scared about what he would find inside the wallet. He didn't really want to open it – it was like reading someone's diary, or looking through their mail. It was a complete invasion of privacy.

But James was not a coward, so he grasped the zipper, and yanked at it, and the wallet fell open.

He realized he was holding his breath and let it go, pushing the leather sides farther apart, searching through the little pockets for a license. The first thing he pulled out, however, was not a driver's ID, but a card with _Stanford University_ written across the top in red font. He recognized it as an ID card. He had had to carry one at Berkeley, too. Also on it, printed badly, was a small, fuzzy picture of an unsmiling redhead, pale-skinned and green-eyed. _Lily Evans_.

Lily Evans. So that was her name. He put the ID card on the couch beside him and Sirius reached over to pick it up, studying it closely. "You know, she's actually not that bad-looking. At least you don't have to return the wallet to some old hag."

_That, at least, is something to be thankful about_. The card was passed around quickly, each boy scrutinizing it, each one agreeing. She might not be beautiful, but she had a definite, unique sense about her. Maybe it was the red hair. Plus, all ID cards had unbecoming, mug shot-type images on them.

The next thing the wallet produced was a license. This was more descriptive and James read everything on it: _Lily Fantine Evans. Date of Birth: 05/27/1991. Hair color: Red. Eye color: Green. Race: White. Height: 5'6". _And so on.

The photo on the license was marginally more flattering, and now James could better make out the dark red hair that ended just past her shoulders, the large green eyes, the freckles dancing across the light skin, and the mouth, which, while serious, still seemed to smile.

"She's kind of good-looking, actually," Sirius amended as he took the license from James and looked at the picture. "Fantine? Isn't that the name of some character in a movie?"

"Les Miserables. It's a musical," corrected Remus, considering the driver's ID thoughtfully. "Sirius is right, she's actually quite pretty."

"I wouldn't go that far," said Sirius, reaching for it, but Remus passed it on to Peter before he could grab it back.

This conversation barely registered in James' mind. He had already reached into the wallet again, searching to see if there was anything else of interest. The apprehension he had felt from the prospect of looking through this Lily Evans' stuff had passed. Now he was – well, curious. Besides, hadn't Remus mentioned that some people kept a sort of keepsake in their wallets? Maybe this girl had done the same…?

A brief pain disrupted his thoughts. "Ow!" he exclaimed, more startled than hurt. He withdrew his hand from the pocketbook and examined the cut on his middle finger. It welled a single drop of crimson blood and he sucked on it instinctively, iron tang touching his tongue.

"You alright, James?" asked Remus, putting down the box of fried rice to peer at him anxiously over the top of his chopsticks.

"I'm fine, just a papercut. Surprised me, that's all."

A lot more cautiously, he slipped his left hand into the wallet, wriggling it around to see if he could find what had sliced him.

His fingertips hit something that didn't feel much like a credit card, and he eased his fingers around it carefully, feeling the sharp edges and corners that had probably administered the cut, which had already stopped bleeding. Once he felt that he had a good grip, he eased the object out of the wallet and dropped it into his lap.

"What is it?" asked Sirius, handing the license back to him. James tucked the card into the pocket where it had been, staring at the small, slightly rectangular white square in his lap. When he picked it up, the backside was shiny and slightly sticky. It felt a lot like photo paper.

He flipped it over and just looked at it for a second, a very specific face imprinting itself in his mind.

"It's… a picture."

* * *

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	5. The Absolute Stupidity of James Potter

**Hey everyone!**

**Thanks so much for the reviews!**

**This chapter is all James... sorry to you Lily fans out there. Next chapter will be very Lily-centric, don't worry!**

**Hope you enjoy :)**

* * *

Chapter Four: The Absolute Stupidity of James Potter

James couldn't sleep.

He had been tossing and turning for almost three hours, and the alarm clock read one in the morning, but he couldn't get his eyelids to stay shut. He did not blame insomnia, but instead knew the reason that dreams would not overcome him was because every time he tried to close his eyes, _her_ face would appear from the blackness.

He hit his pillow softly in an attempt to make it more comfortable, and threw the blanket off himself. He flipped onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. Moonlight filtering in through the cracked curtains made windowpane shadows in the dark. For two and a half seconds, he occupied himself staring at the elongated squares (_more like rhombi or trapezoids now_, he thought) before getting bored. Again.

With an exasperated sigh, he dragged himself into a sitting position, rumpling his hair and pulling at his boxers where they had ridden up past mid-thigh. Switching on the little bedside lamp and pushing his glasses onto his nose, he picked up the picture that lay facedown on the nightstand. For the thousandth time that night, he turned it over.

His hazel eyes darted, devouring the image greedily.

Three people smiled at the camera, soft lighting highlighting their faces attractively. From the way that they were caught mid-laugh, mouths open and wide, they looked happy and excited and completely in their element. James could tell they were having the time of their lives, and if not, something pretty darned close.

On the side, half of her arm cut out of the photo by a thin strip of white border, was the redheaded owner of the wallet, her arm around a slightly taller brunette who stood in the middle. On the left was a guy with blonde hair who embraced the brown-haired girl as well. They were all dressed up and, from the dim background of people and food and dancing, it seemed like they were at a party.

James couldn't even remember the last time he'd been to a party.

The guy wore a sky-colored button-down and a red striped tie, with a black suit jacket slung over his shoulder. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and exposed forearms that looked like they'd been achieved by no little amount of weight lifting. James supposed he was handsome, although he wasn't exactly one to judge. The blue eyes were certainly full of mischief, and the features were all in the right place – mouth under nose, eyebrows where they were supposed to be, ears on the sides of his head. His skin was the shade that always came with people who lived in California: dark enough to be called tan, but still complementary to the streaked hair. A regular beach blonde. Except male.

The brunette had long, stick-straight hair that fell past the edge of the picture, tanned skin, and light brown eyes. She wore dark red lipstick and makeup that made her whole face glitter. A lavender strapless dress completed the glamour. She was pretty, James admitted, but in a very classic way. He'd seen (and dated) many people like her. Although they seemed nice, they normally turned out to be heartbreakers, good for a few nights and then gone the next morning. Which was why they were more Sirius' type than his. But he shouldn't be assuming things like that, he scolded himself. Generalizations were not the way to go.

Instead, he directed his attention to the figure on the far right.

_She_ was the one that held the most interest for him. Lily Evans' bright green eyes, defined with a hint of eyeliner that edged out catlike past her lashes, sparkled up at him, full of bright life and unmistakable exhilaration. Her mouth was painted in shimmering pink gloss and her teeth stood out white against them. Her pale face was dotted with light freckles. And the ivory shade of her skin was what made her looks so unforgettable, he thought. Her dark red hair, a shade that he'd never seen occur naturally before (for some reason, she just didn't seem like the type of person to dye her hair), was piled on top of her head, except for a few strands which framed her cheeks, appled from her smile. She wore a green dress that was held up by thin straps, the shade matching that of her eyes. And tucked into her bun was a pin shaped like a white flower, studded with silver rhinestones here and there that reflected the light. A lily.

Sirius and Remus were wrong. Lily Evans was neither "kind of good-looking", nor was she "quite pretty". Lily Evans was, to put it simply, abso-fucking-lutely _beautiful_.

And looking at this captured moment, this image of her and her friends laughing at the camera, was a newfound addiction for James.

As a result of his fixation on her face, questions plagued him, day and night. He had taken her wallet. He had _stolen_ it. If he was looking for a way to redeem himself, some sympathy maybe, he would sure as hell not get a chance from _that_ girl. She just looked so fearless, and independent, and elusive… and completely stubborn and headstrong. What would she think of him when he stood in front of her and told her that he had nicked her wallet, here it was, please forgive and forget, bye? Lily Evans did _not_ seem like the type of person to simply take it back with a heartfelt "thank you". Actually, Lily Evans seemed like the type of person to throw the wallet back in his face along with a slap and a few choice words. And if he was trying to endear himself to her, that would _not_ be the way to do it.

Would he be trying to endear himself to her?

It was stupid – just looking at a picture of her, and then wanting to meet her and talk to her and see what she was like. She _might_ be a jealous, overbearing bitch. Somehow, though, she just didn't look like one. And if she acted like a bitch to him, it would be totally justified.

But after she slammed the door in his face, would he ever see her again?

He leaned back onto the headboard with a sigh, eyes tilted upwards. He turned the glossy paper over in his fingers. A car drove past, its headlights illuminating the room for a brief second, before the sound of its wheels faded.

Who _was_ that guy in the picture, anyway? Was he her boyfriend? Were they just friends? From the way that he had had his arms around the brown-haired girl, it seemed like _they_ were dating. James hated getting his hopes up to have them crushed, so he allowed himself to think about Lily Evans and that… _boy_ together. That didn't mean he had to like it. If she had a boyfriend, it wasn't completely unreasonable to think about _both_ of them ganging up on him. Although the redhead looked like a girl who could stand her own ground in an argument. Fiery like her hair.

He let himself stare at the photo for a few more moments, memorizing her face, the remarkably green eyes. A memory frozen in time. Then he placed it gently onto the bedside table, flipping it over so he wouldn't be persuaded to look at it again. But he already longed to see that smile, that contrast of red hair and skin like cream, freckles tracing out an indecipherable map across her nose.

He understood _completely_ why she kept it in her wallet.

"James?"

Sirius' sleepy voice emerged from somewhere beyond the base of the bed, and James cursed inwardly. When he had found the picture earlier that evening and each boy had had an eyeful, making comments on it – "That brunette is hot" from Sirius, "I wonder how old they are?" from Remus, and "Wow, they look like they're having a lot of fun" from Peter – his friends hadn't understood why he kept taking it out of his pocket, again and again, gaze roving the small rectangle hungrily. After the fifth or sixth time, Sirius had finally said: "James, put it away. Staring at Lily Evans' face won't make it any easier for you."

So he had become a lot sneakier with his photo obsession.

"Sirius? Did I wake you up?"

"Mm… no. Light did. Whatchu doin'?"

James froze for a moment, knowing his guilt was written across his face. Sirius would make fun of him for the rest of his life. Then he remembered that the room was pitch-black and his friend wasn't even fully awake. "I couldn't sleep, so I was just… reading."

Reading. Hah.

But Sirius, who would have caught the lie in less than a second, just said: "Mmph, okay… just 'slong as you're not looking at…" (yawn) "… that picture... again…"

From the deeper breathing that followed, James concluded that he had fallen asleep again.

He yanked at the blanket and pulled it up to his chin, rolling to turn out the lamp. Giving in to the temptation instead, he found his hand veering off course to pick up the picture.

He flicked off the light and put the photo down on the nightstand along with his glasses. Then he moved onto his back and closed his eyes, hoping Lily Evans' smile would follow him into his sleep.

* * *

He woke with a hard-on and a gasp, hazel eyes flying open as his alarm clock persistently beeped him awake. Eight twenty-six. Remus and Peter were talking quietly in the kitchen, accompanied by the smell of biscuits and cheap coffee. Sirius still snored on the floor. And James was now sitting up with a yawn, trying desperately to remember what he had dreamt about, an annoyed (but resigned) sigh escaping when he realized what his _stupid_ body was doing.

Only vague flashes were punctuating his mind. A velvety green dress. The sweet smell of something he couldn't quite place but smelled like some sort of feminine product. White flower petals falling to the ground without a sound. Impossibly silky bedcovers edged in black thread. Skin under his own.

And a swish of dark red hair.

James groaned, disgusted with himself. Freaking testosterone couldn't leave him alone, could it? _Why _was he having sexual thoughts – hell, _dreams_ – about Lily Evans from just looking at a _picture_ of her? What was _wrong_ with him? He swung his legs out of bed, carefully keeping the blanket positioned to hide his rude awakening from view, and propped his head up in his hands, closing his eyes briefly in frustration.

He reached for his glasses on the bedside table but his fumbling touch found something else.

That. Stupid. Photo.

Despite himself, he reached over and took it in his hands, finding his glasses and putting them on as he let his gaze rest on the picture once more.

Lily's (it was the first time he'd thought about her as Lily, instead of Lily Evans) green eyes pierced him like a knife; he reached out a hand and touched the image of her face, almost expecting to feel the smoothness of her cheek instead of the vaguely sticky paper. He wished he could feel her soft skin under his fingertips, and then clenched the bedspread in his fist as his hormones acted up again. _Fuck_. Something was seriously the matter with him. He gritted his teeth. How was he supposed to talk to Lily freaking Evans in person if _this_ was what happened when he saw a photo of her _smiling_?

Thankful that Sirius wasn't awake yet, James rose rather gingerly and hobbled over to the bathroom, tossing the picture onto the counter beside the sink and shutting the door firmly behind him. He turned the tap in the tub until its little arrow pointed directly at the blue "C", stripped off his boxers, and stepped in, the freezing water doing what pure thoughts about bunnies could not. Nothing like a cold shower to wake him up in the morning.

He really needed to get laid.

* * *

"Morning, everyone."

"The dead rises," greeted Remus from behind the morning paper, picking up a biscuit and biting into it, catching the crumbs deftly with a napkin.

"Hey, James," said Peter, a lot more amiably, drinking from a cup of coffee in front of him and poring over a book of receipts. He scribbled down a few lines between the tiny print letters and punched a few numbers into a calculator, frowning thoughtfully. "Is 703 divisible by 19?"

"Yeah." James rubbed the back of his neck, smearing the water that had dripped down onto it from his shower. "What's for breakfast?"

"The usual. Is Sirius awake?" The top of Remus' head bobbed as he read.

When James shook his head, the sandy-haired boy gave a sigh and heaved himself up, folding the paper and grabbing his cup of coffee. "Ugh. I'll go wake him."

"Good luck." James sat down at the table and selected a biscuit, biting into it. "Any coffee left? What time is it?"

"Coffee's right there. It's eight forty." Peter input a few more numbers into the calculator, hit ENTER, and scratched the back of his head. He penciled something into the margins of a receipt.

James poured himself a cup and leaned back in his chair, tipping onto two legs, alternating between sips and bites. From the bedroom came sounds of scuffling, and an indignant yell.

"Ow, okay, okay, Lupin, I'm getting up! Yeesh."

Remus emerged, shaking his head. "I'm getting a little worried about Sirius."

"What'd you do, kick him?" Peter pushed his work aside and rose to refill his coffee cup.

"Yes," called Sirius from the bedroom.

Remus rolled his eyes and parked himself beside James, taking up the paper again. "Don't do that, James, you'll ruin the chair. So, you're planning to return the wallet today, right?"

James fought off the attempt to spew his coffee across the table, and instead swallowed, set his chair back on four legs, swiped a hand across the back of his mouth, and hid his surprise behind a bemused expression. "What, so soon?"

Remus frowned. "The sooner the better, James. Then you can go job hunting."

"Victoria's Secret!" crowed Peter, stuffing a bite of biscuit into his mouth.

James ignored him, instead focusing on Remus' words. His friend wasn't being pushy – it was the reasonable thing to do. Delaying the inevitable couldn't serve to make it better, after all.

But that meant…

He would have to meet Lily Evans _today_? _What?_ The way that he had woken up already said _bad_ things about how he might react to being in her presence. And to her, he'd probably just be a despicable bastard who'd stolen her wallet. Which meant his strange infatuation with her would probably come to nothing.

Even though it was stupid, drawing so many conclusions from a picture, he really wanted to get to know her. She seemed like _exactly_ the type of person that would suit him.

Unfortunately, he hadn't given himself that chance.

* * *

At nine, he left the house just as Sirius backed the sputtering old car out of the parking lot, his headphones playing Grieg and his thoughts spinning faster than the speed of sound.

The wallet was safely in his pocket, but he hadn't put the photo back into it. It was tucked into his left hand, him glancing at it almost every minute. He knew he had already memorized everything there was to see, yet he couldn't stop himself from looking, overcome by the hope that maybe it would give him some secrets, that maybe it would tell him how Lily Evans' mind worked, and maybe it would show him how to apologize to her in such a way that she wouldn't hate him forever.

But those green eyes, so full of happiness and bright intelligence and stars, whispered nothing but dread into his ears.

_It's your fault. You're the one who stole my wallet. I have every right to be mad at you for that_.

Such irrational hope.

He knew his Lily-sounding conscience was right, and gave a small chuckle at the fact that she was telling him off, even when she didn't know he existed. James could already imagine her voice – a mixture of obstinate and sweet, underlined with a dry sarcasm and tinged with fire.

It was regrettable that the one time he'd hear her speak in his life, she would probably be yelling.

Why had he completely ignored her right after stealing her wallet? Screw trying to look innocent; if he'd seen her from the front, if he'd even caught a glimpse of her face, he would have done _everything_ to get on her good side! Judging from how that photo made him react, he probably would have handed the wallet _back_ to her, then fallen to his knees and _begged_ forgiveness. He wouldn't have tried the smirk that (usually) sent girls swooning at his feet, or attempted to brush off the obvious theft with some smooth words and a few suggestive, flirty comments. The thought wouldn't have crossed his mind at all! Because _this_ girl, Lily Fantine Evans…

He was so, so stupid.

The nine oh seven bus pulled up to the curb in a screech of exhaust, and he checked the schedule again. _Stanford – 9:12_.

Stanford University. She must be a smart girl. Or extremely hardworking. A lot more hardworking than him. He'd gone to Berkeley, which was a damn good school as well, but although he'd scraped good grades (actually, they'd been more than good, teetering on the border between excellent and phenomenal), Stanford was on an _entirely_ different level. Plus, he'd been at Berkeley on a partial soccer scholarship.

A moody piece by Beethoven started up, and he idly pulled his iPod out of his pocket, flipping through the songs, and changed it to a peppier Handel. There was something about classical music that he just loved. It was so calming, hearing the piano or cello or violin singing softly, manipulated by talented hands and producing a tune that served as a sort of background track to his life. James had never had a knack for instruments or rhythm – the failed clarinet and drum lessons of his youth had proved that – but he always enjoyed listening to people play.

He preferred soccer. Soccer was to him like drugs might be to others; it was his way of escaping his problems, of immersing himself in the game and untangling all his knotted-up thoughts. There was something so instinctive about weaving a ball through defenders' strong opposition, catching it in that sweet spot on the inside of your foot, watching it send the net flying. And the team was always so tightly knit and knew each other back-to-front, from weird habits to favorite foods, a group of people so comfortable with one another that they didn't even blink when a player stripped down in to the locker rooms to take a shower. He loved the way that a single nod on the field could start a complicated play that would end in a goal, and how the sound of someone panting behind him when running laps could immediately identify said person.

Yes, soccer was definitely the way his life worked. Maybe he could try coaching kids in the sport for his job. James thought he could manage it. It would be fun, getting them engaged and just as enthusiastic as he was, and making them love it as much as he did.

That was a good idea. But first, he had to return this wallet to the gorgeous Lily Evans, and face whatever consequences he got.

The nine-twelve bus heaved itself to a stop. James climbed the steps and found an empty seat. He slouched tiredly, trying to relax, as the wheels turned and ambled down the road, closing his eyes. _Stanford, here I come_.

* * *

"Excuse me, do you happen to know Lily Evans?"

It was only the _eighth or ninth time_ James was asking this question, and he was getting impatient. To put it lightly. He fisted his hands in his pockets and gritted his teeth, waiting for the reply that would inevitably come, namely along the lines of "Who?" or "No, sorry." or "Why the hell should I care?"

The small Asian girl he had happened to be interrogating brushed a piece of hair out of her face and blinked, glancing up from her book. "Excuse me?"

"Lily Evans. Red hair, green eyes, goes here? Do you know her?" It was all he could do to be polite.

"Red hair?"

James dug his nails into his palms in an effort not to do something he would really regret, like punching this Asian from here to the middle of next week. "Yes."

She tilted her head to one side, folding up the corner of her page and closing her book. "Yeah, I think so."

James could've kissed her.

Oblivious, the girl continued. "She runs past here every morning. Comes from _that_ direction. Always waves to me, seems very nice. I think she's a senior. Why do you ask?"

But James was already heading the way she'd pointed. "I need to talk to her. Thank you so much, uh…"

"Veronica," supplied the Asian.

"Veronica," clarified James. "Thanks, Veronica."

"No problem. Good luck." She turned back to her book. James walked on.

After a few minutes, he came upon a boy who was leaning against a tree, his legs crossed in front of him, sneaker-clad, scratching at what seemed to be an essay with a pen. He seemed totally immersed in his work, and didn't even look up when James approached.

"Excuse me, do you know – ?"

The boy looked up, and James actually took a step back, he was so startled.

The blonde hair and blue eyes were distinctive enough, and even without the dressy shirt and suit jacket and laugh, he was easily recognizable.

James' mouth dropped open, and he hurried to close it, snapping it shut so quickly it must have looked comical. His hand dropped to his pocket, where the wallet resided, and, inside its leather depths, the picture.

"You okay, dude?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." James ran a hand through his hair uncomfortably, composing himself.

The guy raised an eyebrow skeptically. "You sure?"

"No, seriously. I'm fine." It came out a little sharper than intended, and he made an apologetic gesture. "Sorry. You just look like someone I know. Um. So, anyway. Do you happen to know a Lily Evans? Red hair, green eyes…"

Even as the boy in front of him interrupted, James knew what the answer would be.

"Yeah, I know her. She's my girlfriend's roommate. Senior like me. Why do you ask?"

James fidgeted slightly, raked his fingers through his hair again. "I need to give her something."

The guy squinted. "Are you her secret boyfriend or something?"

For the first time in a _very_ long while, James resisted the urge to blush. "Uh, no. No, I'm not. I just need to talk to her."

"Okay, then." The blonde boy stuck out his hand. "I'm Jeff McKinnon. Nice to meet you."

James shook. "James. James Potter."

"The dorm is that way. Second building, take the stairs up one flight. It's the first door on the left." Jeff pointed. "I _think_ she should be there."

Not believing his luck, and feeling a surge of relief that this Jeff wasn't Lily's boyfriend: "Thanks. Thanks so much."

"No problem. See ya, James."

* * *

Second building…. check.

One flight of stairs up, metal ringing under his feet… check.

First door on the left, a big brass 201 blaring out at him… check.

So why was he so anxious?

Well, besides the whole sorry-I-stole-your-wallet-here-it-is-back thing, that is.

James didn't know why his nerves were so on edge, or why his hand kept leaping to his hair in an effort to calm himself, or why his heart was pounding so loud you could probably hear it from Canada. He wasn't one to get nervous easily. The moments before a soccer game provided a rush of anticipation and adrenaline, not this high-strung, jumpy state. He'd never felt like this before.

Again, he let himself think about what would happen when he gave the wallet back. He was expecting at _least_ a slap, and knew that he would probably be getting off lightly if that was all he received. Already, he could feel the sting of Lily Evans' five-fingered anger against his cheek, and rubbed it absentmindedly to eradicate the phantom pain. He shifted his weight and felt the lump in his pocket, a thousand pounds of guilt dragging him back from where he stood awkwardly in front of the door, trying to gather up his courage to knock. Why was it so hard?

As if to prove himself wrong, he reached up a hand and rapped firmly on the wood a few times, before dropping his arm abruptly and giving a little groan.

Why had he done that? _Why _had he done that? That was stupid. That was _very, very_ stupid. There was something seriously wrong with him. Yep. That was right. There was something _very_ wrong with him, because if his head had actually been _working_, then he wouldn't have knocked on that goddamned…

The door flew open, behind it a pretty girl, tall for her age but not nearly as tall as James. _It was that girl_. The brunette from the picture. Now she had ditched the sparkly makeup and the blood-red lipstick and the fancy clothes, opting for a ponytail and jeans, but James would have known her anywhere.

For a few moments, he just stood there like an idiot, struck dumb, while the girl's face twisted in confusion. "Um, excuse me? I don't believe I know you."

"Who is it, Marlene?"

Without even seeing her, he knew it was Lily Evans' voice, exactly as he had thought it would sound. It felt like cold water had been splashed onto him, and his legs went weak for a moment, before he steadied himself and gave a small grin, his knee-jerk reaction to everything.

Marlene half-turned away from the door to call to the unseen figure – "I don't know" – before facing James once more. "Who _are_ you?"

He took a deep breath. "Sorry for interrupting. I'm James. James Potter. Um… would Lily Evans happen to be here? I need to speak with her."

* * *

**Hope you liked!**

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**Love,  
jackala345**


	6. An Unexpected Visitor

**Hi guys,**

**I owe you a serious apology... actually, two. One, because this chapter is so freaking late. And two, because it's so freaking short and a lot worse than the others. Ugh. I'm really sorry about this. It's really not one of my favorites so far. **

**Enjoy (or not) :P**

* * *

Chapter Five: An Unexpected Visitor

Ugh.

Seven o'clock in the freaking morning.

Lily sat up, blinked. With a low groan, she looked around blearily before slamming a hand down on the alarm clock, effectively stopping its incessant beeping.

_I don't wanna go running, I don't wanna go running, I don't wanna go running…_

She headed to the bathroom and splashed some cold water onto her face to wake herself up. A glimpse of herself in the mirror proved her bedhead as hopeless as always, but she grabbed the hairbrush and dragged it through the tangles, yanking about half the strands out of her scalp in the process, wincing. Then, using her fingers, she scraped her hair back into a ponytail and rubbed her eyes before fumbling in the drawers and slipping her running headband on.

She changed quickly, pulling on a pair of socks and shorts, and wriggling into a sports bra. Yanking her sneakers on, she left her room and maneuvered her way into the kitchen, sticking a water bottle into the fridge so it'd be cold by the time she got back and then checking swiftly for strawberries and bananas – a repeat of the previous grocery-plus-stolen-wallet disaster was _not_ something she was looking for, especially so early in the day.

Daily indoor morning routine done, she donned her iPod and departed the dorm, key jingling on her shoelace.

* * *

She returned just as the phone started singing, ringtone as annoying as always, drawing an exclamation of "Who the hell is calling at eight?" from Marlene's closed bedroom door.

"I got it," called Lily, pulling out her headphones and letting them rest on her shoulders as she picked up the unharmonious device and pressed the green button. "Hello?"

"Hi, is this Lily speaking?" It was a feminine, mother-sounding voice. Lily thought she recognized it, and she would have been able to if she wasn't so exhausted. But for now, it was just a vague recollection in the back of her mind.

"Yes, who is this?" She covered her mouth to hide a yawn.

"Oh, Lily, hi! It's Marta."

"Marta! How are you?" Marta Jones was the mother of little Henry Jones, a boy that Lily regularly tutored in algebra. But why would she be calling, and especially at such an hour? Henry's lesson wasn't until two days later…

"I'm sorry for such an early call, Lily. I hope I didn't wake you up. It's just that Henry's friend invited him to go kayaking the day after tomorrow, and Henry's lesson is that day. And he doesn't want to miss the trip."

"That's not an issue," Lily said, sitting down on the couch and unlacing her sneakers with her free hand. She cocked her head and nestled the phone in the crook between neck and shoulder, pulling off her running shoes and tossing them into the corner. "I'm pretty flexible this week, so switching the time won't be a problem. When would be good for you?"

"Oh, thank you, I know it's a huge inconvenience. Henry has a doctor's appointment and birthday party tomorrow, so I think today would be the best, actually. I hope that's not too sudden. I hate to spring this on you with such little warning."

"No, don't worry about it. Today would be just fine. What time do you want me to come over?" Lily shook her hair out of its sweaty elastic and rumpled her fingers through it.

"Any time is good."

Lily considered. "Well, I have classes starting at one, so this morning would probably be the most feasible. I'll be over around nine, if that's okay?"

"Yes, that's fantastic! Thanks so much, Lily. I feel so bad changing last-minute."

"No, I really don't mind, Marta. Henry's a great student; I hate to give up an opportunity to work with him." She peeled off her socks and sent them off to the corner with her sneakers.

"You're too kind, Lily. See you at nine! Bye."

"Bye."

Lily put down the phone and extended her legs onto the coffee table, leaning over to loosen up her muscles. Marlene's door opened and the brunette emerged, sleepily dressed in a T-shirt and sweatpants, bun lopsidedly falling apart. "Who was that?"

"Marta. Tutoree mother."

"Hmm, well, it woke me up," Marlene yawned. "Why'd she call?"

"She needed to switch the lesson for Henry. Oh, speaking of which… I need to be there by nine. Can you drive me?"

With a long-suffering sigh, Marlene assented. "Fine. But you better not take too long. I have to be back by eleven. Jeff's coming over."

"Cool." Lily arched her back and stretched her arms up to the ceiling.

Her roommate gave another earth-shattering yawn, scrubbing at her eye with her fist. "I'm hungry. What's for breakfast?"

"I dunno, coffee or something. I think we have eggs. You make it."

"Lily – !"

The redhead danced out of the way, laughing brightly. "I have to _shower_." Plaintively. "Save me some, will ya?" Making for her bedroom door, she closed it firmly behind her before locking it and heading for the shower, as Marlene's exasperated "Argh!" resounded behind her. "Love you, Marlene!"

The water was calming on her tired legs and back, and for a moment Lily just stood, letting the droplets pour down her body. Then she remembered that the purpose of showering wasn't just to increase the water bill, so she shampooed and conditioned and shaved, cucumber-and-green-tea-scented steam rising up all around her.

Ten minutes later, Lily pulled the curtain aside and stepped out, toweling her hair. While outside running, she'd sensed the approach of hot weather, so she dressed appropriately, shorts and a tank top. A spray of detangler and a few minutes of fierce brushing later, and her hair lay wet and (for the moment) tame across her shoulders. The smell of eggs mingled with coffee lingered through the air, and she breathed in appreciatively before tossing her towel and sweaty clothes into the laundry hamper and entering the kitchen.

"Smells good," she commented, and Marlene made a face at her, tipping scrambled eggs into a bowl and setting them on the counter.

"Go make your smoothie, and don't eat my food. Where's the salt?"

"In the cabinet." Lily opened said cabinet, tossed the saltshaker to her friend, who deftly caught it. The blender clanked its way out of the wooden cupboard. "Mm, smoothie."

"I think you mean 'Mm, sugarless pile of mush,'" Marlene corrected, sitting down at the counter and shoveling into her breakfast.

Lily chucked some strawberries into the blender. "You're just jealous that you didn't think of it first."

Marlene rolled her eyes and took a long sip of coffee. "Yeah, right." She took another bite of egg, frowned, and sprinkled a bit more salt. "So, what's your schedule today?"

The strawberries were joined by a few dollops of yogurt. "Um, tutoring at nine, art history at one, mathematics at four. I should be back by six. Hopefully. You?"

"Comparative literature at two thirty. Then I have to be at the diner by five thirty for the dinner rush."

"Sounds fun." Lily pressed PUREE and the blender started off. "Means after I leave for math, I won't see you 'til tomorrow. Unless, of course, my art history professor assigns _another_ essay, and I'm up until midnight finishing it. Bring me back some of those excellent french fries, if you please? They're the only way I survive Minerva's homework."

"Maybe." Marlene finished her coffee and rose to pour herself another cup. Taking advantage of the situation, Lily swiped a bite of eggs off her friend's plate. "Lily!"

"Sorry." The redhead munched innocently. "Needs more salt, though." But as Marlene scowled, her attention was distracted by something much more important. "Look! My smoothie's done!"

"Joy," drawled her roommate.

* * *

"Hey, Lily! So glad you could come on such short notice."

"No problem." Lily stepped into the house, immediately assaulted by the smell of floral air freshener and waffles. "Don't worry about it."

Marta, a middle-aged woman with long graying hair, wide hips, and smile lines around her eyes, ushered Lily through the foyer and into the kitchen, where the table had been cleared off for their tutoring session. "I think Henry's upstairs. You just get ready and I'll go find him. Henry!"

As Marta exited the room, Lily settled into her normal seat, opening her bag and taking out her usual materials: a few pencils, a folder of worksheets, and some scrap paper. She arranged everything in front of her, then checked quickly to make sure she had the Skittles that young boys always seemed to like. The plastic package rustled in the folds of her purse, and with a furtive glance, she ripped the bag open and slipped a few into her mouth. The fruity candies were her weakness as well.

"Hi, Lily."

Henry, a boy of twelve with brown hair, angelic blue eyes, and slight figure, sidled into the room, hands in his pockets. Caught in the act, she chewed vigorously, lemon and orange breaking out across her tongue, before swallowing quickly and indicating the chair in front of her.

"Hey, Henry. C'mon, sit down," Lily replied amiably, her face breaking out into a smile. She couldn't help it. She liked Henry a lot – he was one of her favorite pupils. He always worked hard and completed the assignments she gave, plus he was kind and soft-spoken and sort of shy, yet smart and always willing to go the extra mile. The epitome of a good student, that he was. "How are you?"

Henry reclined the chair, relaxing backwards. "I'm good. Sorry you had to come today, but my friend Daniel, you know…"

"Yeah, I'd give up a tutoring session for a kayaking trip any day." Lily brushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear and crossed her legs, winking to show she meant no harm. Henry grinned in response and rested his elbows on the table, leaning forward.

"So, what are you learning these days in school?"

Henry grimaced, absentmindedly playing with one of the pencils lined up neatly on the tabletop. "Polynomials. Yuck."

"That's not too bad," Lily said. "Do you understand everything?"

"Most of it," said Henry, twirling the writing utensil between his fingers. "Except, I don't get completing the square. It just doesn't make any sense to me."

"Well, do you understand the concept? That's the most important part, after all…" Lily trailed off as she saw the expression on Henry's face, an air that clearly said _I have heard this many times before but I'm trying to be patient_. She raised an eyebrow in challenge. _Well, if you've heard it so many times, tell me_.

"The answer you get isn't as important as how you get it," recited the boy. "I know. But the thing is, I don't know _how_ to get it. That's always the issue I have."

"Yep, and that's why I'm here," Lily assured him. She held out her hand for the pencil and Henry put it in her hand. Sliding a piece of paper towards the center of the table where he could see it just as well as she could, she began to write. "All right. So, the main reason that you use completing the square is so you can factor a trinomial, right?"

"Yeah." Henry leaned forward, turning his head slightly so he could see the paper, where Lily had jotted down x^2+4x+12 = 16.

"Well, if you look at this trinomial I've written down, what correlations do you see to a regular square trinomial?"

He considered. "Well, you have the x squared, and the 4x, but instead of 4 the last term is 12. And plus it doesn't equal zero, it equals sixteen. So it doesn't factor."

"Well, not yet it doesn't. But it's really easy to make it factor." As if changing topics suddenly, Lily tapped her chin thoughtfully. "When you were first learning how to solve equations, what did your teacher teach you to do?"

"What?" Bewilderment crossed Henry's face.

"Look, say you have something simple like…" Lily wrote down x+5 = 7. "…this. How would you solve this?"

"Well that's easy," replied Henry. "Just subtract 5 from both sides." He pointed to show what he was saying.

"Exactly," answered Lily. "And can't you apply those same tactics here, too? After all, it's just like a regular equation." She indicated the first set of numbers she had written down.

"Oh…" Henry traced the numbers with his fingers as the thought ran through his brain. "Oh, so if you do this, and then this, and then… oh! I get it!"

And this was exactly what Lily loved about tutoring.

* * *

"Thank you _so_ much, Lily. I can't thank you enough." Marta pressed a check into her hand and smiled hugely, the other arm thrown around Henry's shoulder.

Lily glanced at the paper in her hand and was slightly surprised to see that the amount written was about fifteen dollars more than expected. "Um, Marta? Not to pry or anything, but…" She held up the check, struggling to phrase her question properly, so not to offend the portly mother.

But Marta just shook her head. "No, no, that's because you deserve it. Henry always says how much he likes your teaching, and plus we made you make a last-minute change in your schedule today. You deserve every bit of that money, sweetheart."

Lily was taken aback. "Well, thank you! Thank you very much, that's really sweet. I'm… I'm not sure I should take it though…"

"Oh no, please do. You've earned every speck of it. And thank _you_. Henry's grades have been rising significantly since you started up with him."

"He didn't tell _me_ that." Lily smiled at him, and he grinned sheepishly back. "That's great, Henry!"

He fidgeted. "Thanks, Lily. You're a really good tutor."

"I'm happy to do it. You're a really good student. Really."

The boy beamed. So did his mother.

Lily was about to say more, but she was surprised by a honk from the car idling in the driveway. She turned around abruptly, shooting a glare at her friend, who just smirked at her from behind the windshield. Apologetically facing the mother and son in the doorway once more, she sighed. "Sorry, I think my chauffeur is getting a bit impatient. Thanks again, Marta! Good luck with those polynomials, Henry!"

They waved and Lily half-pivoted, before hesitating, reaching into her purse, and pulling out the open bag of Skittles. "Here, Henry."

He took the packet and grinned even wider. "You're the best, Lily. Thanks!"

With something bordering on ecstatic reverence dancing across his face, he stuffed three of the candies into his mouth. "Henry!" exclaimed his mother, stealing away a few for herself.

Lily laughed. "Bye! See you next week!"

She slid into the passenger seat and gave Marlene a dirty look, which her friend simply ignored. "Marlene, you can't just honk at me when I'm talking to my clients. It's rude. Besides, I'm not on a date or something, so it's not even justified."

"I had to drive _and_ I had to wait an hour for you. It's like, ten, and despite how much I love you, that's pushing it. Plus, you don't have to spend an extra five hours sweet-talking them after the lesson's over."

Lily's jaw dropped in amazement. "I was not_ sweet-talking_ them! I like Marta and Henry! He's one of my best pupils!"

"I know. Little Henry is adorable. If he was a few years older, I'd _definitely_ date him." Marlene's joking tone indicated apology for the comment, which was all that Lily would probably be able to get out of her roommate. So the redhead just rolled her eyes and hit the brunette's shoulder.

"Marlene! No hitting on my tutorees!"

"_You're_ the one hitting _me_. Stop distracting me," complained Marlene, expertly maneuvering around a corner and speeding up to run a yellow light.

"I am _not _distracting you. And you better not get a ticket."

"I've never gotten a ticket in my life. Admit it. I'm a fantastic driver."

"Not really," bit out Lily, grabbing onto the side of the door as her friend swerved sharply to avoid a car. "Damn, Marlene, drive a little slower, will you?"

"Hey, no whining. It's my car and I set the rules." She turned on the clicker, switched lanes. A honk sounded behind them.

"Keep your hands on the wheel!" cried Lily as Marlene lifted one to adjust the rearview mirror and the other to take a sip of coffee from her ever-present travel cup.

"Jeez, chill out." But Marlene wrapped her fingers around the steering wheel once more.

Slumping back in her seat, Lily opted to stare out the window, watching the clouds fly by in a blur of white across the sky like paint streaks, lazily tracing the seams of her purse in her lap. The familiar sights and restaurants flashed past: that great Chinese place, Fu La Mum, the mall, a few stores that she often shopped at, the supermarket…

A couple of turns later, the trees of Palm Drive came into view, and then it was just a few minutes before Marlene pulled (safely) into the parking lot by their dorm. "Aaand, we're back."

"Thank God," Lily muttered. "Your driving is atrocious."

"Hey, I'm your only mode of transportation 'til you're unlazy enough to go to the bureau and get a new license." Marlene swung the door shut, locked the car, and stuffed the key into her pocket.

"And how I'll survive, I never know."

"Oh shut up. Let's go."

* * *

A knock on their door, two rapid beats, firm-wristed and quick.

Lily was curled up on the couch with her laptop open in her lap; Marlene was sitting on the floor at her feet, reading a book.

"Are we expecting anyone?" wondered Marlene, not making a move to get up.

"I don't think so. Jeff's not supposed to be here 'til eleven, right? It's only ten thirty," Lily replied.

"Who could it be?"

"I dunno, you get it."

With a sigh, the brunette heaved herself off the floor, placing her book on the coffee table, and headed for the door. She cracked it open just enough so that the person beyond could see half her face, and for a moment just stood there, not talking.

Lily had abandoned the GD work she was doing on her computer, and instead surveyed the scene with interest. Beyond her friend's form, head tilted to the side in confusion, she could glimpse a mop of messy black hair. As she watched, a hand ran through it, a movement that seemed very natural.

Marlene's hand went to her hip. "Um, excuse me? I don't believe I know you."

Lily's eyebrows shot up like her curiosity. "Who is it, Marlene?" They weren't expecting anyone, but someone was here, someone Marlene didn't know? Marlene knew _everybody_. She was the social butterfly of the seniors.

Who could it possibly be?

Her roommate flashed a look over her shoulder. "I don't know." She turned back to the mysterious, hair-ruffling stranger. "Who _are_ you?"

There was an audible pause. Then…

Deep breath, and a distinctively masculine, actually quite sexy voice. "Sorry for interrupting. I'm James. James Potter. Um… would Lily Evans happen to be here? I need to speak with her."

James Potter? Who the hell was James Potter?

And he was looking for Lily Evans?

But that would mean…

…her?

* * *

**Yeah, I know. It sucked.**

**I promise the next chapter will make up for it (James/Lily finally talk to each other, anyone?) **

**Please review! **

**Love you all,  
jackala345**


	7. An Unmistakable Mistake

**I know, I know. There is no excuse for my lateness with this chapter...**

**Luckily, it's one of my favorites. Even if it is a little short. And a little un-edited, I was really rushing to get it up to you guys! Sorry for all of you who may have been disappointed when I didn't update this weekend (which is when I was supposed to...)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter Six: An Unmistakable Mistake

Marlene Weber prided herself on knowing many things. Being an English major at Stanford University, she often found that she was much smarter than many of her age; her mind worked faster and absorbed more. Perhaps this was why Marlene was also such an extrovert – her easygoing, completely laidback nature appealed her to most people, and her ability to connect with others and remember both names and favorite colors after a single conversation made her, for lack of better term, a social butterfly.

Yes, Marlene Weber knew a lot and understood a lot. Yet currently, Marlene was about as stumped as they get. Marlene did not know why there was an extraordinarily attractive guy standing outside their dorm. She did not know who the extraordinarily attractive guy was, and she _certainly_ did not know why he was looking for Lily Evans, who happened to be her more introverted, not-exactly-antisocial-but-definitely-not-butterfly-status roommate.

Marlene sort of understood why boys might come asking for Lily – maybe a hundred years ago, that is. In this day and age, hooking up was mostly done at parties. Or bars. Not that they went to bars much at all. Sure, Lily was quite pretty, and of course it wasn't like Marlene didn't see guys checking out her friend from time to time, but Lily just wasn't the type to date. Especially not boys like the one leaning awkwardly back on his heels in front of her. He was quite tall, over six feet, muscled and lean, with abominably messy black hair and hazel eyes that peered nervously through gold-rimmed glasses perched lopsidedly on a slightly crooked nose. He wore jeans and a simple T-shirt, and kept running his hand through his tousled locks, not as a vain act, but one that seemed more instinctive, and completely habitual.

There were two things Marlene knew for sure. One: Lily did not have a secret boyfriend. And two: Even if Lily _did_ have a secret boyfriend, it would _not_ be James Potter.

But Marlene was nothing if not polite (when she had to be), so she opened the door a bit wider, and made a sweeping gesture with her hand. "Lily's here. Come on in."

* * *

"Lily's here. Come on in."

James felt his entire body tense up in anticipation, not unlike the feeling he got before an especially intense soccer game. The feeling where every sense was suddenly alert, every reflex fine-tuned and razor sharp. When his gaze sharpened, his legs ached to run. Like all his muscles were readying themselves for action. Or, in this case, _finally_ (although it had only been a night) meeting _her_.

He stepped around Marlene, _that girl_, he kept calling her in his head, looking not at the brunette but for any glimpse of Lily. Lily Fantine Evans. He filed away the sight of the dormitory interior – to the left, a rickety wooden table and four chairs, and in the corner a small kitchen, almost totally enclosed by a counter, under which two stools were pushed. The space he was standing in was about the size of his own living room, with a comfortable sofa smack-dab in the middle and a coffee table in front. A TV was immediately to his right, so close he could reach out and touch it.

There were two doors, presumably leading to two bedrooms. One was perhaps fifteen feet straight ahead of him at the end of a short alcove, barely long enough to be called a hallway. It was closed. The other was on the far right wall, hanging ajar, giving him a peek at a messy bed, covers thrown back.

All of this registered in his mind in a split second as he took in the scene; he wasn't looking for decorations, however, he was looking for a _very_ specific person.

And there she was.

She was sitting on the couch, in a position that made her seem as though she was about to get up, looking curiously at him with those green eyes – oh Lord, those green eyes. The picture had not done them justice. At the thought of it, the image flashed in his mind's eye, Lily all fancied up in that dress and her hair spiraled into a bun, makeup complete, and he decided that the plain old Lily Evans in front of him was a lot prettier.

Because oh God, she was gorgeous.

Her hair was down and falling gently around her shoulders, curling ever so slightly at the ends and touched with a soft wave, that same, defined, startling shade of red. It was even more dramatic than he had supposed from the photo against her pale, freckled face. And of course, her green, green eyes, struck with confusion, and her mouth twisted questioningly. She wore a pair of shorts and a tank top that hugged her skinny frame, and _fuck_, she was a sight to remember.

Now her gaze wasn't trained on him, it was on her friend, the brunette. What had Lily called her? Marlene? Something like that. He couldn't really remember. The sight of her was dazing him.

Then Lily spoke.

"Marlene? Who is this?"

Her voice still sent chills down his spine – exactly as he had guessed. Soft. Sweet. Slightly lilting. Hard-edged with sarcasm. Completely doused in defiance. Beautiful.

There was something wrong with him.

Marlene opened her mouth to answer, but James, shaking himself out of his stupor (_Wake UP, James Potter)_, beat her to it.

He threw her a little grin and extended a hand, hoping his exterior cockiness did not betray the grasshoppers leaping around in his stomach. "James Potter. And I assume you are Lily Evans?"

She smiled and put her hand in his, completely confident and at ease. _Of course_. Obviously, the sight of him would not make her shiver with longing. Hell, he'd be damned if she even felt the slightest flutter of attraction. He envied her poise. Women.

"Yep."

He took a moment to relish in the fact that her fingers fit perfectly with his, before she gave him a funny look, glancing down at their entwined hands, and smirked very diminutively, just a tugging of the right corner of her lips, giving him a teasing glimpse of the inner dry humor he _knew_ she kept locked inside her, bubbling to get out.

Dropping her hand, James cleared his throat and tousled his hair. "Um, so…"

Lily sank onto the couch casually, patting the spot next to her. "C'mon, sit down. It's not every day that random people I don't know come to my dorm and demand to talk to me."

What was _with_ this girl? She was like, a freaking _expert_ at stuff like this. Like guys like him waltzed into her dorm every day, asking to talk to her, way too obviously holding onto her hand for just a second too long. Then again, he internally sighed, he could _definitely_ sympathize. _Look _at her. She was _gorgeous_. He was surprised that he hadn't walked in on two or three of those lovestruck bastards himself, when he knocked on the door.

Gingerly, he lowered himself next to her, caught a fleeting scent of shampoo, and fidgeted, finding a better position. He ran a hand through his hair. Shifted again.

"Why are you here?" Lily asked abruptly.

"Uh…" James cleared his throat again, and Lily's eyes twinkled.

"We can get you a cough drop if you'd like."

"No! No… no, that's really okay. I'm fine. So, uh, I just… needed to talk to you…?" Why couldn't he form a coherent sentence? He whacked himself mentally. _James. Calm_.

"Thing is, I don't know what you're doing here," Lily said, crossing her legs and leaning back. "Hell, I don't even know who you are. So I think you have some explaining to do before you start this whole 'I-need-to-talk-to-you' thing."

James, struck dumb but not completely surprised by her forwardness, paused, his mouth hanging open. He had thought she'd be something like this – very to-the-point, very… what was the word? Bold. Yes, Lily Evans was definitely bold. And spirited. And gorgeous. And smelled good. And…

But he digressed.

He realized that Lily was staring expectantly at him, reclined comfortably on the sofa, hands in her lap. Uncomfortable with this whole situation, he was still sitting stiff upright, looking nervously at her. His hand twitched, wanting to rumple his hair again, and it was with enormous self-control that he resisted.

He found himself staring. What had she asked him again? Oh, right. Explain himself. Well, that was easy. That was… that was…

Damn, that was the hardest fucking thing he'd ever do in his life.

"James?"

Oh, his name. She was saying his name. It sounded musical and melodic, coming from her mouth, he'd never heard anyone say the name like that before. James. James, James, James…

"James, are you all right?"

"What – ? Wha – oh, yeah, I'm fine."

"You don't _look_ very fine." Lily peered at him, the smell of her hair striking him again hard, like a slap. "Actually, you look kind of sick. And really nervous. What's up? Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?"

He swallowed, because she'd gotten it spot-on. Yes, this was _exactly_ what he wanted to talk to her about. But what was he supposed to do? Ramble on and on about how he'd stolen something of hers, blah, blah, blah, he was so sorry, please forgive him? Because _meeting_ Lily Evans had dispelled any hope, any faith that she would _ever_ forgive him. The way she had jumped headlong into the situation, completely confident, completely aware of what she was doing… Really, what had he been thinking? Why had he listened to Remus? Why had he decided to return the goddamned… UGH.

Lily was looking worriedly at him again – the one time she'd ever do so – and he ran a hand through his hair once more, dropping his gaze from her hypnotizing viridian one. He scuffed a toe in the frayed carpet and sighed, resigning himself to his fate.

After all, it was no one's fault but his own.

"Well," he began weakly, his voice scratchy. He cleared his throat once more. Lily lifted an eyebrow jokingly, but he didn't react, despondently twirling his fingers and rocking his foot back and forth.

"Well," he repeated.

"Well… _what?_" Lily pressed.

"Well… I sort of came to talk to you… about… _this_."

Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out the wallet, and placed it in her lap, his fingers uncurling from it almost reluctantly. That picture was his fragile connection to this redhead, the first and only time he'd ever see her dressed up, the last time he'd ever see her smile.

Lily gaped. Marlene, who had been standing awkwardly to the side all this time, sucked in a sharp breath.

James resisted the urge to strangle himself. "I came to talk to you about _this_."

* * *

"Lily's here. Come on in."

Marlene turned away from the door and made big eyes at Lily. _He's hot. Who is he?_ she mouthed, brushing imaginary lint off her sweater and pulling at her jeans. Straightening her ponytail.

James Potter, whoever he was, owner of the sexy voice, stepped over the threshold, hand flying to his head, and Lily, who had been about to get up, stopped in her tracks.

All right, so he was pretty attractive.

Hazel eyes, dark hair, lean, tall frame. Evenly tanned skin and glasses on a nose that was crooked ever so gently to the left. Jeans and shirt hanging off his body like they belonged there.

Make that _very_ attractive.

But why would this… this _very hot_ boy need to see _her?_ Her, of all people? She hadn't dated in a year (not like she was complaining…), she hadn't noticed anyone flirting with her lately (although that might've just been her own ignorance), and she _certainly_ had never seen _him_ before. Ever. In her life.

He seemed to scan everything quickly, from the couch to the television to the fridge, a cursory glance, but almost critical, before that long-lashed hazel gaze settled on her own. For a long moment, James Potter appeared to just be taking her in, from her plain, un-makeup-ed face to the pale legs under her regular old shorts. Lily, unnerved by his stare, (in which she thought she caught a slight spark of appreciation), flicked her eyes to her roommate, who had closed the door and was now standing in the middle of the small living-room-slash-kitchen.

"Marlene? Who is this?"

Marlene opened her mouth to answer, but suddenly the elephant (or in this case super-hot guy) in the room jolted to a start, gave a small smile that oozed coolness, and stuck out his hand at Lily.

"James Potter. And I assume you are Lily Evans?"

She managed to compose her face into a sort of grimace in return, jealous of his utterly unfazed manner, and placed her own hand in his, conscious of the fact that his palm was about twice the size of her own. "Yep."

He held onto her fingers for just a second longer than necessary, perhaps not even realizing he was doing so, and Lily, actually amused this time, raised an eyebrow and smirked knowingly at his grip. In return, James let go of her almost comically quickly, her arm snapping down to hang by her side, fast enough to cause whiplash. Her grin widened as he ruffled his hair, cleared his throat, and looked down at the floor uncomfortably, a display that she thought (hopefully) betrayed some of his inner insecurity. "Um, so…"

Lily smiled at Marlene, who raised an eyebrow back, and then sat herself down on the couch, adopting an almost peppy countenance, which she never did. Marlene's brow traveled further up her forehead as Lily patted the seat next to her, looking up at James. "C'mon, sit down. It's not every day that random people I don't know come to my dorm and demand to talk to me."

He lowered himself onto the sofa very carefully, as if scared that she would suddenly turn rabid and bite him, or something. Why was he so nervous? He'd never even met her before (well, she'd never met him, at any rate), she didn't think they knew each other, so he would have no reason to be so… awkward. As the handsome boy fidgeted, messing at his hair _again_, Lily found her curiosity rising even further. Who _was_ he?

"Why are you here?" Okay, so she wasn't exactly famed for her tendency to ease into things.

"Uh…" He cleared his throat again, and Lily struggled to hold back another smile, mirth bubbling up.

"We can get you a cough drop if you like."

"No! No… no, that's really okay. I'm fine" – he really was quite adorable – "so, uh, I just… needed to talk to you…?"

He trailed off hopefully, but Lily wasn't going to let him get away with it that easily.

She crossed her legs, leaned back, and prepared for serious interrogation. "Thing is, I don't know what you're doing here. Hell, I don't even know who you are. So I think you have some explaining to do before you start this whole 'I-need-to-talk-to-you' thing."

She didn't really think she'd been rude, and a guy like _him_ should certainly have been able to handle such bluntness, but he seemed completely speechless, his mouth hanging open idiotically, no words coming out. Behind his glasses, his hazel eyes were pooling with nervousness, completely out-of-place with the situation. For God's sake, she was just asking him a simple question! Why did he look so… so _scared_?

"James?"

When he didn't respond, only gaped, frozen, she pressed a bit further.

"James, are you all right?"

He started, hand jumping to his hair. "What – ? Wha – oh, yeah, I'm fine."

He didn't look fine. He looked ill. And pale. And fidgety. And… not fine.

"You don't _look_ fine." _Way to state the obvious, Lily._ "Actually, you look kind of sick. And really nervous. What's up? Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?"

He visibly swallowed, rubbing his hands against his jeans absentmindedly. He rubbed his toe at the carpet and wouldn't meet her worried gaze, instead swinging his leg until finally, seemingly coming to a decision, he sighed deeply.

"Well," he began, before clearing his throat. Lily arched an eyebrow in suppressed humor, but he ignored her. "Well…"

She couldn't help herself. "Well, _what?"_

"Well…" For the _third time! _Just get to the point already! "… I sort of came to talk to you… about… _this._"

Finally! He was going to tell her what he was here for! She thought that if he stalled another minute she'd burst in anticipation. Unconsciously Lily leaned forward, anxious, wondering if whatever James wanted to talk to her about would _finally_ make things click.

He reached into his pocket, and from it pulled the last thing she could ever, in her entire life, have guessed.

James Potter reached over and dropped her leather wallet – _her leather wallet! –_ onto her lap, his touch lingering on it a split, completely noticeable second too long, before retracting his hand.

Lily's mouth fell open.

Marlene, who had been standing to the side, an awkward bystander to this conversation, inhaled sharply.

James looked like he wanted to slap something – preferably his own face. Honestly, Lily was fighting off the same urge.

"I came to talk to you about _this_."

* * *

Marlene Weber's day was just full of surprises.

She was not one who was struck dumb easily, yet at the moment she was at a loss for words.

Her gaze roved the scene: Lily, gaping and clench-fisted, the beginnings of irrational angers building up the back of her eyes, which were trained on the wallet.

James, whose hands were working at light speed, rumpling up his hair, watching Lily's reaction, completely tensed and the word _shit_ written all across his face.

And herself, gripping the edge of the couch so tightly she thought the faded fabric would come away in her hands, frozen to see what would happen next.

It was like a clip from a soap opera – the moment where the boy revealed he was cheating on the girl, the girl was aptly horrified, and the friend was standing to the side in just as much shock, wondering what would happen next. A dramatic slap and tirade, perhaps? A breakdown in tears? A silent, disappointed walk-away?

It was a long twenty seconds before Lily unchoked herself and snapped her blazing green stare up to James' face, no mercy visible anywhere in her expression.

"Explain."

* * *

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, _shit_.

_Explain?_ How the fucking hell was he supposed to _explain?_ How… how did Lily Evans expect him to _explain?_ What was there to explain? Yes, he had stolen her wallet. Yes, he was giving it back. Yes, he was sorry. He was so, so, so, so, so, _so_ sorry. Of course he was. How was it possible to _not_ be sorry, to _not_ be completely and utterly drowning in his own guilt? The way that her beautiful face was twisted in anger – and a hint of something indefinable there, maybe regret? Maybe sadness? How was he supposed to even get the words out – "Sorry, Lily, I stole your wallet, please don't slap me" – without having those gorgeous eyes, that stark pale face burned forever into his retinas?

Was it wrong that the thoughts running through his mind weren't the best way to phrase his apology, but what to say instead to get himself out of this situation? Was it wrong that, even now, only excuses were filtering through his brain? Of course it was wrong. But so was _he_. Everything he'd done, everything he'd fucked up… that was wrong. That was more than wrong. And of course he had no one to blame but himself. But his infatuation with this infuriated redhead in front of him, daring him to put one more toe out of line, that was wrong too. For God's sake, he knew that he was wrong. He knew that he shouldn't have stolen her wallet – and yet he had. He knew that he shouldn't have found that picture – and yet he had. He _definitely_ knew that he should never had become so obsessed with her face – and yet he had.

He should just go jump off a cliff and be done with it.

"James." Her voice was stiff and cold, completely displaced; she sounded like she was trying _very_ hard not to throw something. "_Explain_."

Explain.

Fuck.

Explain.

He couldn't explain. He couldn't. He – he couldn't let himself just walk out of _her_ life without a single touch, without even that picture to give him some sort of relief. He couldn't just _explain_. He couldn't just _leave_. How was it possible that she would understand? He had no defense whatsoever, because there was nothing that she had done to him, nothing that had not been his fault. She didn't even know who he was! It was just her luck that she'd tripped and fallen on the bus, that he'd been the one to catch her, and that he'd seen her wallet sticking out of her purse, been overcome by temptation, and slipped it into his pocket. Lily Evans might be damn unlucky, but that was only because she had had the misfortune to come in contact with _him_.

James wished he could tell her that – somehow, he just could not explain.

But the look in her eyes… it was painful. Beyond the anger and fury and blazing-ness, there was also a sort of softness there, a caring and dark pity, and he wished he could reach out and touch it, experience her sympathy just as much as her fire. He wished he could turn back time, he could have just helped her balance on that lurching bus and exchanged thank-you-you're-welcomes and a few flirtatious words instead of slipping his hand inside her handbag, if only to keep that _look_ from ever burdening him – not just him, anyone – again.

James could not time-travel, he could not do anything except repent on his own. He was not an idiot, nor was he a coward, even in the face of Lily Evans' anger, and so he could do whatever he could do and know that the consequences were deserved.

Her mouth opened again, and he knew that the dreaded word was about to slip past her lips once more – "_Explain"_ – so to stop it he took a deep breath, held up his hand. "Lily, I…"

She cocked an eyebrow, challenging him to continue, that same unbridled indignation dominating her face, red flush in her freckled cheeks. "You _what_, James Potter? This better be good."

Fuck, she was really hot when she was angry. _No, James! Explain!_ The words snapped out of her mouth, completely icy, and he forced himself to speak, to not cower under her rage. "I…" Yes, he could do this. He could explain.

"I found it."

See? He could expl – _what?_

_What?_

Lily's face relaxed immediately, lost its hard, tense lines and rounded out a bit, just a bit. Behind him, Marlene exhaled, a low, long sound. But James could not move, could not stop his sudden iron grip on the back of the sofa, could not help his fist clenching so hard he almost drew blood.

What the _hell_ had he just said?

_I found it_ – oh good fucking Lord.

He was just full of mistakes today, wasn't he?

* * *

**So school started yesterday, and I already have a project, two quizzes, a test, and a buttload of homework assigned to me. Obviously, this will really weigh down on my updates. So I think they will get a _lot_ more stretched out (like, once a month vs. once a week) and I'm really sorry this has to happen, but I can't juggle both this story and all my schoolwork at the same time. So I'll be mostly writing over the weekends, and working the rest of the time.**

**Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter! PLEASE leave a review (I got so many last time! Can we get to, like, 45? Hehe). Sorry, I'm a review whore.**

**Love,  
jackala345**


	8. Ricardo and Chinese Food

**Hi everyone!**

**Yeah, I bet you're surprised. I know it's been a bit. **

**Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter Seven: Ricardo and Chinese Food

When James was six years old, he had found – quite by accident – his mother's favorite pair of earrings while playing hide-and-seek with his imaginary friend Ricardo. He had squirmed his way beneath the vanity table in his parents' room and was huddled there in a ball, muffling excited laughter and pressing himself against the wall in an attempt to hide more of his chubby self under the polished furniture.

Then he'd caught a glimpse of the jewelry box that his mother had so carelessly left open on the stool beside the table, the lid and body both made of smooth, flawless mahogany and decorated with ornate paintings of cranes and moons. James knew, even in his young age, that he was not supposed to touch Mommy's fancy necklaces and bracelets, but then his mischievous hazel eyes saw the sparkles and the pretty colored gemstones and he was gone.

Knowing Ricardo to be searching diligently in the attic, he reached out and picked up the box in both hands, turning it upside down and shaking the contents none too gently onto the hardwood; they clattered ungracefully as they fell. Strands of pearls, fine necklaces adorned with diamonds, rings studded with rubies, gold bangles and many, many pairs of earrings all tangled onto the floor, where James stared curiously, enthralled.

The pearls were boring; they were just little white unimpressive round things strung together and held in a floppy shape by a weird silver contraption. James was reminded of the soccer ball he kept in his room, except his soccer ball was bigger and had cooler designs on it – black, too, not just white. Same with the bangles: they were heavy yellow circles, nothing to be amazed by. The rings and necklaces were a bit cooler. The shiny rubies caught the light and turned a color rivaled only by the brightest blood, or maybe the wine that his parents drank on occasion, and the diamonds were glittery and cut so they reflected his wondering gaze a million times over when he held them up close to his face.

But the earrings were the best. They had sharp little pricks on one side that poked him hard, but not enough to make him cry; after all, he was a big boy, and he didn't cry over things like that anymore. On the front they had all sorts of twinkling jewels and rainbow shades. There was that one pair with the big emeralds mounted on silver backs, and another with diamonds in a long strand, longer than his biggest finger. A few were simple pearls, and others were ripples of miniscule gems that glimmered in the light.

But the ones with the dark sapphires dangling from twin gold strands… wow. They were so pretty, and shiny and blue and _cool_, and James held them in his palms almost reverently. They would be the _perfect_ accessory for his soldiers in their Lego fort. Maybe his soldiers could be guarding them? Like… like what was that word that the pirates in the pirate movies used? Tre – tre something. Swords and necklaces and bracelets and lots of money all in a chest.

James was so excited now, he'd forgotten about the hide-and-seek game. Instead, he pushed the rest of his mother's accessories to the side and began to crawl out from underneath the vanity table, the sapphire earrings clenched in one tight fist. His mind was whirling with the awesomeness of his idea and all the pretend wars he could make up with this tre something that he'd found – he couldn't wait to get to his playroom to put the earrings in a special Lego chest that he'd saved from his last birthday party, just for occasions like this one.

He was so preoccupied that he didn't realize he was making a lot of noise, experienced hide-and-seek player that he was, and he _definitely_ did not notice Ricardo, who was still very much playing the game, sneaking up behind him.

"Boo!" yelled Ricardo, then immediately burst into laughter, delighted over his victory.

James, completely startled and in the process of standing up, jumped and dropped the earrings, which rolled languidly across the slippery hardwood floor, caught on the edge of an air-conditioning vent, and slipped silently through the open slats.

With a dismayed cry, James fell to his knees, crawled as quickly as he could towards the vent, and stared, horrified, into the opening, which was innocently blasting air into his petrified face.

Ricardo was still laughing. James frantically tried to shove his fingers into the vent, pressing his nose against the cold metal in a vain attempt to glimpse a shimmer of sapphire, or a glint of gold, against the dark.

There was nothing.

A few days later, James was sent up to his room with no supper. His parents, who had been planning a nice dinner out, instead spent the evening lecturing him and taking away his Lego fort for an entire week. _A week!_ That was a bit harsh, James complained to himself, while lying on his bed and staring up at the ceiling, stomach grumbling as the smell of pasta teased him from downstairs. Ricardo had snuck up on him, and Ricardo yelling "Boo!" had made him drop his Mommy's fancy earrings. It hadn't been _James'_ fault. But then again, James reflected, Ricardo always did seem to disappear whenever trouble had been caused.

James didn't know why he was reminded of this particular childhood incident now, but he was.

* * *

"You… found it?"

James cleared his throat. _No. I didn't. I stole it. Then I lied about it._ "Yeah. Yeah, I found it."

A crease formed between Lily's eyebrows – she took on an adorably puzzled expression. "But, but how? I mean…"

_Oh, shit_. James floundered. Where were all his well-crafted falsehoods now, his innate ability to get out of situations like this? "Um, well, it was a few days ago, I guess, and I was, um, well, you see, I was just kind of…"

"… I mean obviously there was that episode with the groceries and the bus and everything, and it probably fell out of my bag then, I mean, I was so overloaded with stuff that I could have dropped it and not noticed at all…"

Relieved, grasping desperately at the opportunity Lily was so obliviously handing him: "Yeah. That must have been it. It was at the bus stop, definitely, and…"

"… but thank _God_ you found it. I can't thank you enough, really." She had been turning the wallet over in her hands, as if trying to convince herself it was real, but now she put it down and smiled at him, and the way it lit up her eyes was dazzling. James found himself dumbstruck. "So what exactly happened? Now that I have it back, and I can live again and everything, I want to know the details." The corners of her mouth turned up and she leaned back, as if preparing for a long story.

_Now that I have it back, and I can live again and everything…_ Was that really how the people he stole from felt? "Uh… well, I was, y'know, waiting for the bus to come, and kind of listening to music, eating" – at least he was still telling the truth – "and, well, I saw this wallet just lying there on the bench, and wondered who it belonged to, because there weren't, like, any other people around, so I walked over and picked it up" – and now the lies began. Hadn't taken him very long, had it? – "and looked at it, and, well, it's not a very… y'know, _manly_ wallet… thing, if you get what I mean, so I opened it up and looked through it." Here he sent an apologetic glance at Lily, but she seemed completely fine with that blatant invasion of her privacy, so he continued, getting more uncomfortable by the moment. "And I found your license, and your ID card and stuff, and at that point I was mostly just thinking about who it belonged to, and if I should turn it in to the police or whatever, but I decided not to, and instead came to give it to you personally. Because, your Stanford card was in there, and stuff, and… yeah."

James trailed off lamely. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Marlene leaning against the sofa – Lily's glance flicked up to her friend's, and they exchanged a look that meant much more than what could be said; James knew the feeling, he and Sirius could communicate nonverbally almost as effectively as they could with words. Then the redhead looked back at him, curiously, like she'd just had a thought.

"Wait, but… why didn't you just turn it in to the police? I mean, it wasn't your responsibility to return the wallet to me, and you really didn't have to find me and do all that, you could've just stopped by the station and they would've, you know, taken care of it."

She was smart – obviously, she went to Stanford for a _reason_, dumbass – he should never have tried to skip that part of the story, knowing she would just have caught his gloss-over and become even more inquisitive. James shrugged embarrassedly, debated whether to tell her the truth or not. _You've lied enough already, she deserves to know _something_. _

"Well…" He reached for the wallet, and Lily handed it to him immediately; James cringed inwardly at the display of trust, and once again bashed at his brain with that mental hammer of his. _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

He riffled through the pocketbook for a moment, then pulled something out of it and gave it to Lily. "It was sort of because I found _that_, and then… well…"

* * *

He was just so sweet.

Lily hadn't known there could exist such… _endearing_ boys in this world, but God if James Potter wasn't one of them she didn't know what she would do. The way he spoke, nervously ruffled his hair, the way he looked so out-of-place curled up on their derelict couch, the way his hazel eyes glinted in the light… well, she'd be damned if he wasn't one of the most attractive people she'd ever met.

And now, looking down at the picture that she held in her hands, a square of sticky photo paper and three laughing faces, she felt her heart give a jolt, like it had just been jump-started after remaining dead for too long; Marlene leaned over the back of the sofa to look at the image over her shoulder, while James fidgeted awkwardly next to her.

Lily remembered exactly when this picture had been taken – it had been their friend Alice's graduation party, at the beginning of June, and Alice herself had snapped the photo while Lily, Marlene, and Jeff, riding high on the feeling of their junior year ended, laughed and partied exuberantly, something they hadn't done in a long time. All three of them had stressed and studied over finals, and the knowledge that exams were _over_, that worries could be pushed away 'til next spring… well, that had definitely been something to celebrate.

Marlene was in the middle, wearing the strapless purple mini that had looked so great on her that night, her hair long and straight and her eyes sparkly with makeup. Her arms were slung around both Lily and Jeff, the latter wearing a button down and a suit jacket tossed carelessly over his shoulder, handsome in pale blue, embracing his girlfriend, a grin splitting his face from ear to ear. And Lily herself was in the green dress, held up by thin straps, her hair piled on her head and pinned back with a lily. She remembered the way she and Marlene had laughed over the irony of that, after having spent hours applying makeup, adjusting each other's outfits, and choosing jewelry to wear.

The picture was one of the few that she really liked, partly because she thought she had turned out pretty (despite her usual un-photogenic-ness) and partly because of all the happy feelings that flooded her whenever she looked at it. Even now, she allowed herself to smile as she thought of the green dress hung up in her closet, just waiting for a chance to be worn again.

James cleared his throat; Lily started, she'd almost forgotten he was there. Watching her, something indefinable in his gaze. "And… I saw that photo, and I thought, well… if that isn't the prettiest girl I've ever seen, I'll be damned."

Well, Lily just about melted then and there.

* * *

Marlene, unnoticed by both, edged into her bedroom and shut the door softly behind her.

Maybe they needed a bit of privacy.

* * *

"So you… decided to come find me?"

"Yeah."

Lily dropped her eyes back to the picture in her hands, a million things rushing through her, heart pounding frantically. Was the air conditioning working properly? It was a bit hot. "Wow."

"Mhm."

They sat there for a moment in silence, James shifting every so often and Lily resolutely staring at the photo in her lap; she could _feel_ his gaze boring into her, and it took all her willpower not to return it. That this handsome guy, with no obligation to her, had found her wallet, discovered this picture, and then come to give it back personally – well, it was a little overwhelming to say the least. She felt a peculiar emotion settle in her chest; it was a sort of guilt. She felt the need to pay him back, even just a little – it wasn't like she could _ever_ really repay the debt he'd put her in. For God's sake, he'd returned her wallet! She'd thought she'd never see it again – she'd thought it had been stolen! She'd even suspected _him_ of stealing it! But the raw genuineness of his tone, and the way he was looking at her through his stupid _super hot_ gold spectacles completely eradicated any of that.

An idea struck her like lightning, and she jumped up abruptly. Bewilderment spread over James' face.

"C'mon," she said, resisting the blush spreading over her cheeks. "I'm taking you out to lunch."

So what, she'd never been good with easing into things. The boy on the couch gaped, his hand jumping to his hair once more. "What?"

"I'm taking you out to lunch," she enunciated; her cheeks flushed even darker. "C'mon…"

"W – but why?"

Lily shrugged, chastising her stupid brain. She needed a mind-to-mouth filter. "I dunno… I guess I feel… well, I guess I feel like I kind of owe you or something. I mean, you came all the way here to drop off my wallet, and you didn't have to, and you did, and that was pretty – well, now I'm rambling, but what I mean to say is I feel kind of guilty, and I want to repay you."

He stood up slowly, sticking his hands into his pockets – an indefinable flash of _something_ flickered behind his crooked glasses. "You don't have to feel guilty, and you don't have to repay me."

The redhead rolled her eyes. "Oh, stop complaining. I just got my license back, and I want to drive somewhere. You're just giving me an excuse."

James smiled, and the expression made Lily's mind go fuzzy for a moment. "I suppose if you put it _that _way…"

"You can't complain." Lily finished. She grabbed James' arm and started dragging him towards the door. "Now let's _go_, I'm hungry. Marlene!" she called, "I'll be back soon!"

"Where're you going?" came the muffled reply.

"Out to lunch with James!"

* * *

_Out to lunch with James._

They were probably the most beautiful five words he had heard in his life, and he couldn't get them out of his head, even as Lily escorted him to the most rundown car in the parking lot and slipped into the driver's seat, gesturing for him to get in as well. "James, meet my car, Jamie."

"Jamie?" James raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Coincidence?"

Lily paused for a moment, processing, then blushed. "Oh," she said. "I didn't realize."

"Just promise you'll never call me that."

"I won't." She grinned at him, and his heart gave a lurch – whether it was in guilt or something else, he wasn't sure. The implications of her statement: that she was planning on talking to him in the future, that this wasn't the last time they'd meet (hopefully) made him run a hand nervously through his hair once more and swallow.

It took her a few tries to get Jamie started – "Sorry, he takes a while to wake up" – and then Lily put the car in reverse, that fantastic hair flooding over her shoulder as she turned to look through the back windshield and pull from the parking space. James tried to keep his eyes off her for the duration of the ride, as they started down Palm Drive – staring was rude – but he couldn't help it; he noticed every little thing about her, from the way that she bit her lip when idling at an intersection, or kept brushing away a stray lock that fell into her face, or leaned slightly forward when turning, as if making sure there was nothing on the road that was blocking her path. She drove carefully and within the speed limit, and always stopped at traffic lights, even if they were yellow.

They'd been going a few minutes when Lily reached over and switched on the radio, filling the silence. Classical music began playing, and James started in surprise. It was a relatively famous Chopin nocturne, but still… Lily Evans listened to _classical?_ Was there anything that _wasn't_ perfect about this girl?

"You know classical?" James inquired.

"Do _you?_" answered Lily, keeping her eyes firmly on the road.

"Yeah… yeah, I do, which is why I was surprised. Sorry. That was kind of… offensive. But. Chopin. I like Chopin."

"No, it's fine. You know this is Chopin?"

"Yeah, I have it on my iPod."

"_Really_?"

"Don't sound so surprised, it's offensive," James teased.

"Sorry," Lily bit her lip. "It's just… well, you don't seem like a classical type of person."

"Lots of people say that. But I am. Weird thing about me." James leaned back in his seat and crossed his legs. "So, where are we going?"

"You'll see," was Lily's mischievous reply. She turned on her clicker and made another turn.

James laughed. The nocturne ended, and a rondo by Mozart began; he hummed along, eyes trained on the outside world, watching the buildings pass by.

"You know _this_ song too?"

"Yeah. I told you – I have tons of classical on my iPod. It's mostly all I listen to."

"Wow." Lily brushed at that piece of hair again, and James fought the urge to tuck it behind her ear for her. "I can honestly say that you are the first guy I have ever met that listens to more classical than I do."

James shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm a man of many talents."

Lily laughed, her eyes lighting up. She took a hand off the wheel and hit James lightly on the shoulder; the touch sent sparks running up and down his body. "Conceited little child."

"I am not 'little!'" James' tone made Lily giggle once more. She gripped the steering wheel once more.

"Fine, maybe I exaggerated a little. How tall _are_ you, anyway?"

"Six one." He waited a second for a reply; when none came, he continued, "How about you?"

Petulantly: "I don't like to divulge that kind of information."

"Oh come _on,_" whined James, now curious. "Tell me."

Instead of complying, Lily simply took another turn. "We're almost there."

"Don't change the subject," ordered the boy in the passenger seat.

"I didn't!"

"You did too."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Did too. Why won't you tell me?"

Lily pouted. "I hate being short."

James flashed a triumphant smile. "You're not short, I'm just tall. Now, c'mon, tell me."

"_Fine._ Five six."

"Never mind, you _are_ short."

"Oh, shut up." Lily turned into a parking lot, found a space, and pulled in. "Here we are."

"Hey, I've been here before!"

"Of course you have, everyone has. It's the greatest Chinese place in town. Let's go." Lily climbed out of Jamie and locked the doors (manually) before throwing the keys into her purse. James did the same, then hesitated. "What is it?"

"I just… isn't it kind of expensive?"

The redhead rolled her eyes. "I had a tutoring job this morning and the mom paid me about fifteen dollars extra. Plus, I have my wallet now. Come _on_. Stop making me regret this."

"You're not regretting this one bit – I see it in your eyes." Nonetheless, James erased all doubt from his mind, waited for Lily to come over to his side of the car, and began trudging up the gravel lot beside her. "Thanks, by the way."

"I should be thanking _you_." Lily bumped him with her shoulder lightly. "Which reminds me – thanks."

James grinned even as a stab of guilt punctured his heart once more. "No problem."

* * *

Remus Lupin worked the lunch shift at Fu La Mum. It was a place that could claim to be one of the best Chinese restaurants in the town of Palo Alto, California – and currently, it was also very busy.

At the moment, he was in his standard white apron and black pants, carrying a plate of salt-and-pepper shrimp in one hand and a bowl of noodle soup in the other, balancing his way over to the far corner. "Here you go," he said pleasantly to the American couple sitting there, and they smiled at him as he set down the food. "Have a nice meal."

He retreated to the kitchen, where the cooks were chopping and yelling and stirring pots that emitted delicious smells; inhaling deeply and closing his eyes in appreciation, he loosened his apron strings – they were digging into his back. Respites like this were rare, and he would take advantage of every one he got.

The bell over the entrance jingled, signaling the arrival of new customers. Janet, the lady at the front desk, exchanged a few brief words – "Hello, and welcome to Fu La Mum! Just the two of you?" – before a feminine voice replied, and Janet maneuvered them through the maze of tables to one near the windows, provided them with menus, and returned to her spot as hostess.

"Remus, table seventeen," someone called, and Remus pushed himself off the wall where he'd been leaning, retying his apron. He pulled his pen and pad out of his pocket, automatically tracing his steps out of the kitchen and towards table seventeen.

Seated there were two people: a redheaded girl that looked vaguely familiar, and, facing away from him, some guy with messy black hair. They were perusing their menus and talking; the girl had a grin on her face – she was obviously enjoying the conversation. She was very pretty, and kept tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. As he watched, they both burst into laughter and the girl leaned over to hit the guy lightly on the shoulder.

Remus finally made it to their table. The two were still conversing cheerfully, and he took the moment to scrutinize the redhead's face. She _definitely_ looked familiar. He knew he'd seen her somewhere, it was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't place her with a name…

She glanced up and saw him; her eyes were a startling shade of green, he noticed, as she broke out into a smile. He mimicked her, putting on his "waiter face", as he and the others there so often called it. "Hi, my name is Remus, and I'll be your server for today – "

At the name, the girl's companion looked up suddenly, and Remus trailed off as he stared down at a face he recognized very, very well.

"… James?"

* * *

**Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! Think we can do it again? :)**

**Don't kill me for another cliffhanger.**

**Love,  
jackala345**


	9. Author's Note

So, I know I haven't updated this in forever, but sadly guys, this isn't a new chapter. I'm suffering from extreme writer's block at the moment... I wrote out about half the chapter, decided I absolutely hated it, and deleted it all - have not yet come up with a better substitute. So, I'm really sorry for the lack of contact on my part. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far! I promise I'll have this up by the end of November (hopefully) but I really just need to find some inspiration :)

If you have any questions, feel free to ask on my (newly started!) tumblr:

.com

Thanks again for being so supportive. I actually do have a oneshot coming up (will be posting it shortly, actually) and I hope you enjoy that!

Love,  
jackala345


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